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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27022042">the name of the game</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicplatypus/pseuds/sapphicplatypus'>sapphicplatypus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supergirl (TV 2015)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Role Reversal, basketball player alex, dancer maggie, out alex and closeted maggie, romantic comedy level cheesiness, unnecessary gay drama</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:21:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,797</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27022042</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicplatypus/pseuds/sapphicplatypus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Maggie just doesn’t see the appeal of fawning over someone with that kind of reputation—a player in more ways than one. And of course, she’s straight, anyway, so she wouldn’t be interested in hooking up with Alex Danvers or any woman in the first place. But still.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>170</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Sanvers Big Bang | 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the name of the game</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Check out the amazing artwork for this story by Sonia (@sodapopsonia) <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SanversBigBang2020/works/27024958">here</a>!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Damn it,” Maggie mutters under her breath, pressing up onto her toes as she leans even closer to the mirror. </p><p> </p><p>(She can hear her mother’s voice in her head saying <em> watch your language, Margaret </em>in that warning tone of hers, but she can’t bring herself to care right now.) </p><p> </p><p>She’s been trying to get these stupid false eyelashes on for what feels like hours, but despite her best efforts, the strip just won’t stay put. There’s one little flap at the innermost corner of her eye that keeps popping up, and it’s driving her insane.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie reaches over to check the time on her phone and groans; she will <em> not </em> be late for the first game of second semester because of one errant eyelash. With a calming breath, she centers herself and focuses on the task at hand. </p><p> </p><p>By some combination of luck, determination, and eyelash glue - and maybe some kind of belated Christmas miracle - she finally manages to secure it in place. After one last touch-up of her bright red lipstick, she slings her duffel over her shoulder and heads out the door.</p><p> </p><p>She hurries down the stairs and through the dorm lobby, breaking into a jog as soon as her feet hit the pavement outside. The trees that line the sidewalk are nothing but a green blur in her peripheral vision as she hustles across the quad toward the gym.</p><p> </p><p>As Maggie pulls the gym door open, she glances at the clock hanging above the front desk and lets out a relieved sigh. She’s not officially late yet.</p><p> </p><p>Tugging the strap of her bag up higher on her shoulder, she makes her way down the hallway toward the locker room. She slips into the room just in time to hear her coach saying, “Alright, warm-up in the aerobics room in five minutes, ladies.”</p><p> </p><p>The chatter of her teammates whirls around her as she makes her way to an open bench in the far corner of the room. A few of the girls greet her as she passes, and she smiles politely in return. The rest of her team is crowded against the mirrors, armed with hairspray and mascara and phones held high for group selfies.</p><p> </p><p>Being around them makes Maggie feel like she’s in high school again, sitting on the outside looking in at all the popular girls. She unzips her hoodie and shrugs it off, revealing her blue and white uniform. She might look like a part of the team, she thinks as she laces up her sneakers, but she has never truly felt like a part of it.</p><p> </p><p>Even when she was a child, standing at the ballet barre next to the other little girls in her dance class, she had felt separate from them, different in a way she couldn’t quite articulate.</p><p> </p><p>With a short, quick sigh, Maggie pushes herself to her feet and stuffs her bag into a locker. Some of her teammates have started trickling out into the hall, and she lets herself be swept into the stream of blue and white.</p><p> </p><p>As she passes the mirrors, she glances at her reflection: her perfectly curled hair, her red lips, her inhumanly long eyelashes. She looks the same as everyone else, down to the exact shade of lipstick, but she can’t shake the feeling that she’ll never truly fit in.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s feet are sore, and her cheeks ache, but she’s glad to settle into the familiar routine of a basketball game—the rustle of her pom-poms as she shakes them together, the roar of the crowd every time the NCU Sharks score another point. She had missed this. </p><p> </p><p>(At first it had been nice to have a break, but by the end of winter break she was itching to be back.)</p><p> </p><p>She looks up at the bleachers, waving her pom-poms and shouting along with her teammates as they encourage the spectators to clap and cheer for the players on the court. As usual, Maggie can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment at the number of people that turn up to support the women’s team. She knows the gym will be completely packed tomorrow night for the men’s game, and it’s just not fair. The women work just as hard, if not harder, and they deserve the same amount of appreciation.</p><p> </p><p>Even some of the girls on the dance team have complained about performing at women’s games, and it upsets her to hear them talk like that. Not that she would ever say anything about it, of course, but she fumes quietly while trying her best to maintain a smile.</p><p> </p><p>The blaring sound of the buzzer draws her attention back to the court. The second quarter is over, and the Sharks are in the lead. She watches as the players exchange breathless smiles and pat each other on the back before moving off the court.</p><p> </p><p>As they pass by, she hears a burst of giggles erupt from the sidelines. Her eyes land on one of her teammates, Brooke, cheeks flushed red and lower lip pulled between her teeth as several of the other girls nudge her with their elbows and wiggle their eyebrows suggestively.</p><p> </p><p>When Maggie glances up to see who they’re looking at, she can barely refrain from rolling her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Alex Danvers. Of course.</p><p> </p><p>Rumor has it she’s hooked up with almost every girl at NCU, and though Maggie isn’t one for believing rumors, she suspects that this one has a grain of truth to it.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie watches as Alex runs a hand through her short, sweat-damp hair, flashing a cocky grin as she saunters by. Another giggle bubbles up from her teammates.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Come on, seriously? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Maggie just doesn’t see the appeal of fawning over someone with that kind of reputation—a player in more ways than one. And of course, she’s straight, anyway, so she wouldn’t be interested in hooking up with Alex Danvers or any woman in the first place. But <em> still</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Maggie?”</p><p> </p><p>She startles, turning to find several of her teammates’ eyes on her.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, it’s halftime. We’re on.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie feels her cheeks heat up, and she’s never been more grateful for the thick layer of makeup covering her face. “Oh my god, sorry! I’m ready,” she assures them, adding her pom-poms to the neat line already stretching across the sideline.</p><p> </p><p>She smooths her hands over the front of her uniform and takes in a deep breath, exhaling with a smile—a real, genuine one, not like the smiles she plasters on her face most of the time. She lets her scattered thoughts melt away as she starts to slip into that deep level of focus that she only achieves when she’s performing.</p><p> </p><p>The crowd cheers and applauds as she and her teammates file onto the court and take their opening positions. Once the music starts, loud and pumping in her ears, all other thoughts and distractions are completely forgotten.</p><p> </p><p>When she’s dancing, she doesn’t have to think about anything. She just feels. The stretch of her limbs, the strength of her muscles, the rhythm of the music. The pure endorphins coursing through her veins. This is the feeling she’s been missing, craving for the past month while she was stuck at home.</p><p> </p><p>She has no troubles, no worries, no homework assignments or parents’ expectations to think about. She’s light and buoyant with nothing weighing her down.</p><p> </p><p>For two minutes and ten seconds, Maggie feels like herself again.</p><p> </p><p>For two minutes and ten seconds, she feels free.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>The following Monday, as she trudges to the humanities building for her first class of the day, she feels decidedly less like herself.</p><p> </p><p>She’s wearing the skirt her mother bought her for Christmas, knee length and pale pink, covered with tiny white flowers. It’s very pretty, and she hates it.</p><p> </p><p><em> Pretty </em> is what’s always been expected of her. She’s supposed to be soft, delicate. Feminine. Lady-like, as her mother would say. </p><p> </p><p>(Usually in the context of <em> Margaret, that’s not very lady-like. </em> Don’t sit like that. Don’t wear that. Don’t eat that. Fill in the blank.)</p><p> </p><p>Wearing this skirt, she feels like a child, wrangled into a nice dress for church on Easter Sunday. Even from halfway across the country, her family’s expectations have her in a stranglehold. She’s not a child anymore, but she’s learned that fighting against them is a futile endeavor.</p><p> </p><p>Besides, her family’s expectations have morphed into her peers’ expectations. Everyone on campus knows her as the girl with the pretty skirts and the polite smiles. To them, that’s just who she is.</p><p> </p><p>They don’t know her at all.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie sighs. The day has barely begun for her, but she already can’t wait for it to be over with. She prays that everything will go smoothly with her classes so she can just glide through the day until it’s time for dance practice.</p><p> </p><p>But, of course, the universe won’t let her off that easily.</p><p> </p><p>As soon as she walks into the classroom, she knows that something’s up. Dr. Gibson has her syllabus clutched tightly in her hands, a mischievous smile on her face.</p><p> </p><p>Great.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie takes her seat and waits for the rest of her classmates to filter in through the open doorway. As soon as the clock strikes noon, Dr. Gibson pulls the door closed and turns to them with a grin.</p><p> </p><p>“Good afternoon, everyone,” she begins, far too cheerful as usual, receiving a halfhearted grumble from her students in return. “If you remember, when we went over the syllabus I told you that we’re going to have several small group or partner assignments throughout the semester. We’ll be starting the first one this week.”</p><p> </p><p>Several of her classmates groan in unison, and Maggie lets out an exasperated breath as subtly and quietly as she can. She hates these kinds of stupid projects. It’s so much easier to just get the work done on her own.</p><p> </p><p>Still, she flips open her notebook and dutifully takes notes as Dr. Gibson explains the guidelines for the assignment.</p><p> </p><p>“In a moment, I’ll have you pick your partners,” Dr. Gibson tells them, and Maggie watches as the other students look around the room, already seeking out their desired partners.</p><p> </p><p>Fantastic. Another reminder that Maggie doesn’t have any real friends. As usual, she’ll get stuck with whoever is left after everyone else chooses the partners they want. </p><p> </p><p>It’ll probably be creepy Steven. She barely represses a shudder at the thought, grimacing to herself as she flips to the next page in her notebook.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, uh, Maggie, right?”</p><p> </p><p>The voice catches her off guard. Maggie’s head snaps up, and she nearly chokes as she locks eyes with Alex Danvers.</p><p> </p><p>“Um, yes?”</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t know Alex Danvers knew her name.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m Alex,” she tells her, like she isn’t the most notorious person on campus. “I’ve seen you at some of my games.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie resists the urge to roll her eyes—<em> my games</em>, like she had personally invented the sport of basketball. Instead, she offers a cordial smile. </p><p> </p><p>“Anyway,” Alex continues, “I was wondering if you wanted to be partners.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“I just figured, you know, you’re on the dance team, so we probably have similar schedules,” she explains. “It’ll be easier to plan around the games since we both have to be there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” Maggie blinks, tilting her head as she considers. One of the worst parts of working on group projects is trying to get whoever she’s working with to be flexible with her hectic dance team schedule. She supposes it might be nice to not have to worry about that for once. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she admits, somewhat reluctantly.</p><p> </p><p>Alex grins. “Is that a yes?”</p><p> </p><p>And she can’t believe she’s about to do this, but she’s already not in the best mood today, and she wants this conversation to be over, and even working with someone as annoying as Alex Danvers beats being partnered with creepy Steven, so she nods in agreement. “Alright, yeah. Partners.”</p><p> </p><p>“Great,” Alex says, flashing her a smile before dragging Maggie’s notebook across the table towards herself and scrawling something in the corner of the page. “Here’s my number, text me and we can figure out a time to meet up.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s too stunned to react for a moment, though her surprise is quickly being replaced by the irritation swelling inside her at Alex’s cocky demeanor. She’s just so <em> arrogant </em> in everything she does; even the confident swipe of her pen across the paper is annoying. Before Maggie can think of anything to say in response, Alex is already sliding the notebook back across the table and sauntering back to her seat.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie looks down at the ten digits scrawled messily onto the otherwise empty page and sighs. What has she gotten herself into?</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>She must be the first girl on Earth to text Alex Danvers about something other than a booty call, she thinks wryly as she pulls up her newly saved contact later that night.</p><p> </p><p>She still can’t believe she agreed to be her partner. She’s blaming her poor decision making on the fact that she stayed up too late last night watching <em> Law &amp; Order </em>—her brain was foggy from lack of sleep, and it had led to a serious lapse in judgment, obviously.</p><p> </p><p>But she had agreed to it, and she’s a woman of her word (and it’s too late to go back now anyway) so she sucks it up and types out a message.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hi Alex, it’s Maggie. Let’s figure out a good time to start working on the assignment for Gibson’s class. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She sets her phone down on her desk, and she's surprised when the screen lights up with a notification less than a minute later.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hey Maggie! I started looking at some of the articles on the list she sent us and I think the one about globalization sounds interesting. What do you think? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Maggie feels her eyebrows raise as she reads over the text. She had anticipated that she’d be the one doing most of the work with this assignment, as usual, but it seems like Alex might actually be ready to do her fair share. It’s definitely not what she’d expected from her, but she certainly won’t complain about it.</p><p> </p><p><em> Sure, sounds good, </em> she texts back. <em> Will you be free any time this weekend? </em></p><p> </p><p>The women’s team has a game on Saturday, so they’ll both be pretty busy for the rest of the week, but she hopes they can squeeze in some time to start working on Sunday.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sunday at noon? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Perfect. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>When Sunday rolls around, Maggie drags herself to the library, her sore muscles protesting under the weight of her backpack. The game last night had been intense, the Sharks barely scraping by with a victory during a heated overtime. Maggie had pushed herself extra hard during halftime in an attempt to engage the crowd and keep the energy levels high, and her arms and legs were regretting it today.</p><p> </p><p>The library doors slide open and she steps inside, scanning the room before she spots Alex sitting on a bench near the window, one foot planted next to her as she leans her elbow against her bent knee. She’s wearing light grey sweatpants and a blue NCU t-shirt, the top half of her short hair swept back into a small messy bun. She looks much softer than Maggie’s used to seeing her, so much less intimidating than usual.</p><p> </p><p>It’s almost jarring to see her like this, and Maggie knows she’s staring but she can’t help it. It’s too weird.</p><p> </p><p>Then Alex glances up and meets her eyes, smiling that infuriating cocky smile as she pushes to her feet and strides over.<em> Ah, there she is. </em></p><p> </p><p>The corners of Maggie’s lips quirk upwards in a brief, tight smile as she greets Alex with a small wave. “Hey.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Alex says back, still grinning. “Let’s grab a table.”</p><p> </p><p>She motions for Maggie to follow her and starts moving toward the row of study tables on the other side of the room. As she walks, Maggie can’t help but notice the way her sweatpants cling to her backside, the soft grey material leaving little to the imagination as her hips sway back and forth. Her mother would be <em> appalled </em>if she ever wore something like that in public.</p><p> </p><p>Then again, her mother would be appalled by most things Alex Danvers does.</p><p> </p><p>They pick out a table in the corner, and Maggie’s muscles sigh in relief as she slips off her backpack and drops into the chair. As she’s pulling her laptop and notebook out of her bag, Alex asks, “Are you going somewhere after this?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Maggie tells her, brow crinkling slightly as her lips pull downward into a confused frown. “Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. Then what’s with the dress?”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie glances down at the floral print fabric pooling around her knees before looking back up at Alex. “What about it?” she challenges.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing, it’s very pretty,” Alex says with a sly grin that makes Maggie want to roll her eyes. “Do you always wear dresses?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Maggie says indignantly, her chin jutting up. “Sometimes I wear skirts.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex chuckles. “Do you own a pair of pants?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Maggie narrows her eyes. “Do you own a dress?” she fires back.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Alex says smugly, one eyebrow raised in a haughty challenge. “Do you own a pair of <em> sweatpants</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>A pause.</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex gasps, eyes widening. “None?”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie shakes her head, shrugging.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have, like...comfy clothes?”</p><p> </p><p>“I have pajamas.” Maggie hates how defensive she sounds. “And workout clothes, but those are for wearing to practice or the gym.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you, like, a psychopath or something?” Alex teases.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie glares across the table, her jaw set and her eyes hard. “Can we get started?”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, okay,” Alex relents, holding her hands up in surrender. “Too far. I’m sorry,” she adds, and Maggie blinks at her, genuinely surprised.</p><p> </p><p>After a brief pause, she clears her throat. “Um, so, the globalization article?”</p><p> </p><p>Alex nods enthusiastically in response, her eyes lighting up as she opens her laptop and pulls up the article. “Okay, so I was reading over it and there’s this one section that I thought was really interesting.” She pauses as her eyes scan over the page, making a small sound of triumph when she finds what she’s looking for.</p><p> </p><p>She gestures with her hands as she explains, a gleam in her eye and genuine excitement in her voice, and Maggie’s a little shocked. Who knew Alex Danvers was the type of person who gets excited about homework?</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god,” she says when Alex finally takes a breath, realization and disbelief colliding in her voice. “You’re a total nerd.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex’s expression turns sheepish, her cheeks tinged a faint pink. Something about it makes Maggie’s heart soften, and she offers her a smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry, so am I,” she tells her, leaning in conspiratorially.</p><p> </p><p>Alex smiles back, looking a little relieved, and Maggie tilts her head as she regards her. Maybe there’s a human being under all that bravado after all.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>Working with Alex turns out to be surprisingly easy. Despite the somewhat rocky start to their first study session, everything flows much more smoothly once they start actually working on the assignment.</p><p> </p><p>Over the next couple of weeks, they meet up a few more times, squeezing in meetings between team practices, basketball games, and all their other coursework for other classes. They always meet in the library, and they always sit at the same table in the back corner.</p><p> </p><p>They’re like a well-oiled machine. Maggie has never worked on a class project with someone who is actually willing to contribute and collaborate with her, and it’s a relief to not have all that weight on her shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>(She starts to feel a little guilty for assuming that Alex would make her do most of the work.)</p><p> </p><p>And Maggie is realizing that Alex isn’t so bad to talk to, either. She’s wittier than Maggie expected, and Maggie frequently finds herself stifling her laughter in the quiet library, sometimes accompanied by pointed glares from nearby students.</p><p> </p><p>She’s beginning to understand that the Alex she sees on the basketball court is much different from the Alex who sits across the table in the library, cracking jokes and talking with her hands as she explains an interesting fact.</p><p> </p><p>This Alex is more relaxed, more real. Someone Maggie might actually want to be friends with.</p><p> </p><p>A few days before their assignment is due, they meet at the library much later than usual. There was a women’s game earlier tonight, and they’re both exhausted, but this is the only time they’ll both be able to work together on their project before it’s due.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie walks through the sliding doors, freshly showered and dressed in dark jeans and a soft sweater. As she’s looking around for Alex, she hears the doors whoosh open and turns to find her striding in behind her.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Sawyer,” she greets with a grin, and Maggie rolls her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, <em> Danvers</em>,” she tosses back.</p><p> </p><p>Alex just chuckles. “Come on.”</p><p> </p><p>As they make their way to their usual table, Maggie says, “Thanks for coming. I’m sorry to make you come here on a Friday night, especially after a game. I’m sure you had plans.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry about it, Sawyer,” Alex assures her as she slides into her seat. Maggie resists the urge to roll her eyes again—apparently the “Sawyer” thing is sticking. “Besides, I’m sure you’re missing out on some dance team post-game hangout tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie can’t help but snort, prompting Alex to raise her eyebrows. “I’m, uh, I’m not that close with the girls on the team,” she explains.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” Alex looks like she wants to say more but she doesn’t, and Maggie is grateful. She doesn’t particularly want to talk about the fact that she has no friends to hang out with on a Friday night.</p><p> </p><p>“So, um, anyway, I brought note cards so we can write down everything we want to say for the presentation, and I thought that maybe we could practice a couple times.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex nods. “Sounds good.”</p><p> </p><p>They work in comfortable silence for a while, each occasionally interjecting to ask the other a question or two about the project. As Maggie is finishing her second-to-last notecard, the PA system crackles to life and a droning voice announces, “The library will be closing in ten minutes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shit,” Maggie groans, checking the time on her phone screen as though it might say something different.</p><p> </p><p>When she looks up, Alex is leaning back in her chair, looking amused and a little impressed. “Didn’t know you could curse, Sawyer.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie feels her cheeks getting warm, but she holds her gaze. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex grins, quirking an eyebrow. “I’m beginning to sense that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can you <em> sense </em> where we can go to finish working?”</p><p> </p><p>Alex’s eyes are gleaming as she purses her lips, thinking. “I’d say we could go to my room, but there’s a lot of athletes in my wing and I don’t think there’ll be much peace and quiet right now.”</p><p> </p><p>“We could go to my room,” Maggie offers, surprising herself. Very few people have seen her room before. It’s her safe space; she doesn’t want to let just anyone inside.</p><p> </p><p>But she trusts Alex, or at least some part of her does. That should surprise her too, but for some reason it doesn’t.</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds good,” Alex agrees, hitching her bag over her shoulder and sweeping her arm toward the exit. “Lead the way.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s not until they’re walking up the stairs in her dorm that Maggie considers the implications of inviting Alex Danvers up to her room. As she pushes through the door at the top of the stairwell, she takes a surreptitious glance around the hallway, feeling some of the tension in her shoulders dropping when she sees that there’s no one around. What if somebody saw them together and thought she was...like that? Like Alex?</p><p> </p><p>Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay, of course. She’s perfectly fine with having a gay friend. Her parents might not be so fine with it, but it’s not like they’d ever have to know about Alex anyway. She just...she doesn’t want anyone to assume anything about <em> her</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The hallway is clear, so there are no prying eyes on them as they make their way to Maggie’s room. But still, Maggie feels some lingering nerves fluttering in her stomach, and she fumbles with her keys as she unlocks her door with shaky hands.</p><p> </p><p>Once they’re inside, Maggie turns to look at Alex. They’re standing much closer than they’ve ever been before, and Maggie’s cheeks are warm and her hands are sweaty and her thoughts are still jumbled with anxiety so she forgets to think before she makes an observation aloud.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re shorter than I thought.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex stares down at her pointedly, one dark eyebrow arched. “I really don’t think you have room to talk, there, Sawyer.” Alex’s chin dips as she looks her up and down, and Maggie can feel a flush creeping up the back of her neck. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey!” she squeaks in protest.</p><p> </p><p>“You called me short first!”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not what I meant,” Maggie tries to explain, knowing she’s about to embarrass herself even further. “It’s just… I’ve always seen you at basketball games, and even just the way you walk around campus, it just makes you seem...taller. Like, you have this...this attitude that you give off.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex smirks, crossing her arms over her chest and shifting her weight back. “Yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“And there it is,” Maggie says with a flourish of her hand, shaking her head at the way Alex is puffing out her chest.</p><p> </p><p>“No, but I get what you mean,” Alex tells her as they move further into the room, shedding their backpacks. “The basketball court is where I feel the most confident.” After a pause, she adds, “Some would say too confident.”</p><p> </p><p>As Maggie motions for Alex to sit on the carpeted floor, she can’t help but get in one last jab. “Some?”</p><p> </p><p>Alex huffs as she drops to the ground. “Yeah, yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>But Maggie understands perfectly. She feels that way when she’s dancing—so powerful, like she could do anything. She wants to tell Alex that she knows what it’s like, to feel some deeper part of herself take over when she’s doing something she loves, but the moment has passed.</p><p> </p><p>She settles onto the floor across from Alex, reaching for her backpack and pulling out her laptop. “Okay, so all we really have left to do is one last round of proofreading and then run through our presentation a couple times.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, right. Yeah, not too bad.” Alex nods as she reaches for her own bag and unzips it.</p><p> </p><p>They lapse into their usual companionable silence as they read over the report they’ve written, each making small edits and adjustments on their shared document. When they’re both satisfied, they move on to the presentation.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie pulls up the slides on her laptop screen and Alex shifts closer so she can see better, scooting across the carpet. “Okay, so I was thinking I could do the introduction,” she says, reaching over Maggie and gesturing toward the screen.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s heart jumps in her chest a little when Alex leans towards her, and she’s surprised and a little puzzled at her own reaction. The sudden movement must have just startled her, she reasons.</p><p> </p><p>Clearing her throat, she returns her attention to the screen in front of her. “Um, yeah, that’s fine. I can do the conclusion.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie shifts her attention to the notebook in her lap as she writes out which of them will present each section to the class. When she’s finished, Alex moves back to her own computer, and Maggie feels herself release a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.</p><p> </p><p>Their first run-through of the presentation is a little clunky, but they find their footing easily and it goes much better the second time around. At Alex’s request, they go through it one last time, and by the end they’re both feeling confident they’ve secured an A on this assignment.</p><p> </p><p>As Alex is packing up her backpack, Maggie realizes she doesn’t want her to go yet. She’s actually enjoying spending time with Alex Danvers, of all people. She can admit now that Alex is not who she thought she was, but she still has this notion of her in her mind as some cocky asshole she could never be able to get along with. And now here she is, hoping that Alex wants to be her friend as much as Maggie wants to be hers.</p><p> </p><p>She’s about to ask if she wants to stay a little longer when Alex’s phone buzzes with a notification. Alex glances at her phone screen, a smile spreading across her face as she reads the message.</p><p> </p><p>Something strange twists in Maggie’s stomach, but she puts on a smile and asks, as casually as she can, “Late night booty call?”</p><p> </p><p>Alex’s nose crinkles in disgust. “Ew, no, it’s my little sister.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Maggie says, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “I didn’t know you had a sister. How old is she?”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s a senior this year. Midvale High.” Alex smiles fondly, and Maggie can tell right away that she and her sister are very close. The way her whole face softens as she talks about her warms Maggie’s heart.</p><p> </p><p>“She must miss you,” Maggie says, and Alex’s smile turns a little sad.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” she says, her voice small. “I miss her too.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie nods sympathetically, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and without thinking she reaches across and lays her hand gently on top of Alex’s. Alex looks right at her, and her heart does that jumping thing inside her chest again. </p><p> </p><p>Maggie startles, pulling her hand away and clearing her throat.</p><p> </p><p>Alex is still looking at her, her eyes asking a question that Maggie doesn’t know the answer to.</p><p> </p><p>“I, um, I hope you can talk to your sister soon,” Maggie tells her, hoping Alex can hear the sincerity in her voice.</p><p> </p><p>Alex smiles again, just slightly, and Maggie’s relieved. “I’m going to call her in a few minutes, actually. Apparently there’s some drama with her theater friends that <em> absolutely cannot wait</em>. Direct quote.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie grins as she pushes herself to her feet. “Sounds urgent.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex stands as well, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. “Practically an emergency,” she agrees, her smile widening.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie is glad to see Alex smiling again. For a moment, she’d worried that she had ruined this burgeoning friendship before it had a chance to begin. But she’s smiling, and she’s smiling because of Maggie, and Maggie feels warm and soft and content.</p><p> </p><p>Alex makes her way to the door, pausing with her hand on the handle and turning to face Maggie once more. “You know,” she says, “I don’t really do well with partners, but...I think we made a pretty good team.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie grins. “Yeah, I guess we did,” she teases.</p><p> </p><p>“And we are gonna kick this presentation’s ass on Monday.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, definitely.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex pulls the door open, tossing a wink over her shoulder as she makes her way out into the hall. “See you around, Sawyer.”</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>They absolutely crush their presentation on Monday. They volley back and forth easily, switching off as they explain the key points of the article to the class. </p><p> </p><p>When Maggie’s not addressing her classmates, she turns and watches Alex’s face while she talks. She can still spot that fascinated gleam in her eye, but it’s subdued. Alex has a reputation to maintain, after all—she wouldn’t want her peers knowing their star point guard is secretly a giant nerd. That would definitely lose her some coolness points.</p><p> </p><p>(Maggie doesn’t judge her for it. She knows what it’s like to have to live up to other people’s expectations all the time. She wonders, idly, if Alex’s parents are anything like hers.)</p><p> </p><p>They finish presenting, and Dr. Gibson flashes an impressed grin from the back of the classroom as they make their way back to their seats.</p><p> </p><p>“Nailed it,” Alex whispers as she brushes past her, holding her hand out for a stealthy low five.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie slides her palm against Alex’s, a thrill running down her spine at the contact. Is this what it’s like to have real friends?</p><p> </p><p>She grins as she settles into her seat a couple rows behind Alex, feeling lighter than she has in weeks. She’s confident she just aced her first presentation of the semester, and she’s finally making a friend. Things just might be looking up.</p><p> </p><p>For the rest of class, Maggie watches as her classmates stumble through their presentations. There are a couple that are decent, but none as seamless as Alex and Maggie’s.</p><p> </p><p>Satisfaction swells in her chest, and she smiles to herself as she remembers what Alex had said on Friday night.</p><p> </p><p>They do make a pretty good team.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>At practice that night, Maggie is unstoppable. She stretches deeper, runs faster, leaps higher. There’s a lightness in her chest, an almost giddy feeling floating through her, and she feels like she could fly.</p><p> </p><p>The dance team is cleaning their newest routine tonight, drilling every move over and over until it’s perfect. Normally, Maggie hates these kinds of practices. They’re frustrating and repetitive and her coach’s voice is grating in her ears. But tonight, she’s motivated. She pushes herself, focusing on making each movement sharp and precise and perfect.</p><p> </p><p>She lets herself get lost in the pulsing music, in the feeling of every muscle in her body working together as she moves. For some people—her mother included—dance is about poise, and grace, and beauty. For Maggie, it’s about strength. Power. Pure athleticism.</p><p> </p><p>It’s about feeling the energy extending all the way from the tips of her fingers to the point of her toes. It’s about feeling alive, and tonight she’s more alive than ever.</p><p> </p><p>A little over an hour into practice, her coach gives them a water break. Maggie wipes the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand as she moves across the gym, her breaths coming in heavy puffs. She pulls her water bottle out of her duffel and takes a long drink, closing her eyes as the cool water slides down her throat.</p><p> </p><p>In between sips, she bends down and pulls out her phone. She clicks it on, her eyebrows quirking up when she sees a new text from Alex.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Party this Saturday. You in? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Maggie bites down on her lip in a vain attempt to keep the wide grin from spreading across her face. Alex wants to spend more time with her. Maybe she wants to be friends just as much as Maggie does.</p><p> </p><p>She moves to respond, but hesitates, her thumbs tapping against the edge of her phone case as she thinks. She’s never really been to a party before. What if she shows up and Alex realizes she’s a complete loser and she doesn’t want to be seen with her?</p><p> </p><p>She and Alex get along so well when it’s just the two of them, but what if it’s different with so many other people around?</p><p> </p><p>But if she doesn’t go, Alex might take it as a sign that Maggie doesn’t want to be friends, and she doesn’t want that either.</p><p> </p><p>She lets out a short, frustrated breath through her nose before stuffing her phone back into her bag. This can wait until later.</p><p> </p><p>For the remainder of practice, Maggie finds herself struggling to get back into her usual groove. Her thoughts won’t stop wandering to Alex and the party, no matter how hard she tries to rein them in. Alex wouldn’t have invited her if she didn’t want her there, right?</p><p> </p><p>Lost in her thoughts, Maggie loses count of the music, completely missing her cue for the big turn sequence. She stumbles a little, but quickly moves back into position and joins in with the next round of <em> fouettes</em>.</p><p> </p><p>By the time practice ends, she’s drenched in sweat, breathing hard from both exertion and frustration. </p><p> </p><p>She thinks about Alex’s text on the walk back to her dorm, and while she’s in the shower, and while she’s brushing her teeth. She slips into her pajamas and perches at the end of her bed, holding her phone in both hands.</p><p> </p><p>With a deep breath, she swipes to open the message. She quickly types out her response and presses send before she can change her mind.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’ll see you there, Danvers. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>The week passes by in a blur, and Saturday rolls around faster than Maggie expects. That evening, she finds herself standing in front of her open closet, arms crossed and head cocked to one side as she surveys her options.</p><p> </p><p>She’d considered googling “what to wear to a party,” but she already feels enough like a loser as it is.</p><p> </p><p>She’s seen what her teammates wear to parties—parties they used to invite her to, until they realized she would never say yes. She’s scrolled through her Instagram feed and seen them posing in their skin tight dresses and crop tops enough times. But Maggie doesn’t have anything like that. Her parents would never allow it.</p><p> </p><p>She knows she’s an adult now, technically, and she’s living on campus for the majority of the year, but there’s part of her that doesn’t want to let go of the way things have always been. She’s not particularly happy living by her conservative Catholic parents’ rules and expectations, but it’s all she’s ever known.</p><p> </p><p>But there’s another part of her, a small but steadily growing part, that itches to defy those expectations. A part that wonders what it would feel like to show up to a college party in a tight dress and a pair of non-sensible heels.</p><p> </p><p>A part that wonders what Alex would think when she saw her.</p><p> </p><p>She shakes her head at herself, reaching out and sliding her closet door closed. Turning, she slips her phone out of her pocket and scrolls through her contacts. She doesn’t give herself time to hesitate, tapping the call button with her finger and steeling herself as she brings the phone up to her ear.</p><p> </p><p>The line rings a few times and then a confused voice is saying, “Hello?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” Maggie says back, trying to swallow her nerves. “Lucy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s Maggie. From dance.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I’ve got your number saved in my phone.” Maggie can hear the smile in her teammate’s voice, and some of the tension drops out of her shoulders. “I just thought this might be a butt dial or something. What’s wrong, do you need help?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Well, not in an emergency kind of way.” Maggie rubs her palm against her forehead. “I just… Are you going to that party tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>“James Olsen’s party?”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie nods, before remembering that Lucy can’t see her. “Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I’m going.”</p><p> </p><p>She nods again, her cheek squishing against her phone screen. “Okay, um, I was thinking...I was thinking about going, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?” Lucy sounds surprised, but not in a bad way. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. And I was wondering...I don’t really know what to wear to a party, and I was hoping you could help me? Maybe?” She cringes a little at the desperation in her voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god, <em> yes!” </em>Lucy exclaims, and Maggie chokes out a startled laugh. “Some of the girls are coming over soon to get ready together, get your ass over here. We’ll find something for you to borrow.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie blinks. “I...okay,” she manages, a little stunned.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, I just texted you my room number. See you soon!”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a click as Lucy hangs up, and Maggie stands in the middle of her silent room for a long moment as her brain tries to catch up with everything that had just happened. She had just been hoping for some last minute fashion advice, and now she’s about to go meet up with her teammates outside of practice for what’s probably—she pauses, thinking—no, <em> definitely </em> the first time ever.</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t even get ready with them in the locker room before games. She has no idea what to expect.</p><p> </p><p>She’s nervous, but there’s an undercurrent of excitement to it. Lucy had sounded genuine on the phone, like she really does want Maggie to be there. And she’s longed to feel like part of the team for so long; maybe tonight is her chance.</p><p> </p><p>She quickly gathers what she needs and shoves it all into her bag, wincing slightly at the muffled clattering sound she hears as she tugs it over her shoulder. She grabs her keys, tucks her phone into her pocket, and makes her way out the door.</p><p> </p><p>The walk to Grant Hall is both excruciatingly long and far too brief. Maggie’s hands fiddle with the strap of her bag as she makes her way past the front desk and up the stairs. When she makes it to Lucy’s door, she pulls out her phone, checking for what feels like the millionth time that she’s come to the right room.</p><p> </p><p>With a deep breath, she reaches up and knocks on the door.</p><p> </p><p>A few seconds later, it swings open, and Lucy greets her with a wide grin. “Maggie, hey! Come on in.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” Maggie says with a timid smile as she steps across the threshold.</p><p> </p><p>“You can just drop that wherever,” Lucy tells her when she notices the way Maggie is still clutching onto her bag.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie obliges, sliding the bag off her shoulder and setting it gently on the floor. “Thank you,” she says as she turns to face Lucy. “For inviting me, I really appreciate it.”</p><p> </p><p>Lucy waves her hand at Maggie’s serious tone. “Of course, girl! I have been <em> waiting </em> for you to come out to a party with us.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s phone drops to the carpeted floor with a soft thud as her brain trips and stumbles over the words, “I have been waiting for you to come out.”</p><p> </p><p>“You okay over there?” she hears Lucy ask as she bends down to pick up her phone, the tips of her ears burning.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” Maggie straightens back up, shoving her phone into her back pocket and discreetly wiping her sweaty palms against her jeans.</p><p> </p><p>Lucy meets her eyes with a knowing smile. “You nervous?”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s heart leaps into her throat. “I…”</p><p> </p><p>“This is your first party, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh! Yeah, I, yeah, it is.” Maggie’s hands come up to tuck her hair back behind her ears.</p><p> </p><p>“Here, come on,” Lucy says, inclining her head toward her closet. “Let’s find you something to wear.”</p><p> </p><p>She moves across the small room and Maggie shuffles behind, wringing her hands nervously. “Thank you, again,” she says to the back of Lucy’s head. “This is so nice of you.”</p><p> </p><p>Lucy whirls around, pointing one stern finger at her. “Maggie, I swear to god, if you thank me one more time…” She trails off, eyes narrowing playfully as her face scrunches into a frown. “Quit acting like I’m doing charity work. I’m just helping out a friend. I’m sure you’d do the same for me if I needed...like, a cardigan or something.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie can’t help but smile, and she nods in understanding. “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good. Now,” Lucy drawls, turning back to her closet. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”</p><p> </p><p>Lucy starts plucking things off their hangers and handing them to Maggie, and Maggie has a sizable pile of fabric cradled in her arms when she hears a knock at the door.</p><p> </p><p>“That’ll be Christina and Katie,” Lucy tells her as she moves to open the door. “Hey, ladies,” she greets, stepping aside to let them in.</p><p> </p><p>Katie says, “Hey, Luce,” at the same time Christina says, “Hey, bitch” in the same cheerful tone. Maggie cracks a smile at that, trying to ignore the dull pang in her chest at seeing how comfortable her teammates are with one another. She wants to be a part of that.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, hey Maggie!”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s attention snaps back into focus, her eyes landing on Katie, who’s walking toward her with a smile. “Hey!” Maggie returns the greeting, hoping her teammates can’t hear the slight tremble in her voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming!” Christina pipes up from behind Katie. She’s smiling, and she sounds genuinely pleased to see Maggie there.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I was kind of having an outfit emergency and Lucy invited me over,” she explains, shrugging with the pile of clothes still strewn across her forearms.</p><p> </p><p>Both Christina and Katie’s eyes drop to the dresses in her arms before darting back up to her face, matching grins on their faces.</p><p> </p><p>“Does this mean…”</p><p> </p><p>“Fashion show?!”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a delighted gleam in both girls’ eyes, and they’re practically vibrating with excitement.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I, uh…”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s an essential part of getting ready for a party,” Lucy says sagely, and the other two nod in agreement.</p><p> </p><p>They’re all looking at her expectantly, so Maggie finds herself agreeing to try everything on. As everyone bustles around the room, busying themselves with various cosmetics and hair products, Maggie gently lays the dresses on top of Lucy’s navy blue bedspread. She plucks one from the top of the pile, deep red with a high neckline and plunging low in the back.</p><p> </p><p>With a deep breath, she pulls off her sweater and slips out of her jeans, trying desperately to push past the awkwardness of being in her underwear in a room full of other girls. It reminds her of the discomfort of high school changing rooms, trying to change as quickly as possible while averting her eyes from her classmates’ bodies.</p><p> </p><p>God, she’s such a prude.</p><p> </p><p>She pulls the dress on over her head, the wine-colored fabric clinging to her as she smooths it down over her hips. She reaches behind herself to draw up the zipper before turning, clearing her throat softly as she shifts her weight back and forth.</p><p> </p><p>“Um, what do you guys think?” she asks, anxiously clasping and unclasping her hands in front of herself.</p><p> </p><p>“Holy shit.”</p><p> </p><p>Lucy is looking up at her with wide eyes, mouth agape, and Maggie can’t tell if this is a good or bad reaction.</p><p> </p><p>But then she says, “You look <em> fucking amazing</em>,” and heat rises in Maggie’s cheeks as a nervous giggle pushes past her lips.</p><p> </p><p>And then Katie and Christina are chiming in with, “That color looks <em> so </em> good on you,” and, “I knew you were pretty, but you’re, like, <em> hot</em>,” and then everyone is standing and ushering her toward the mirror and then, finally, she’s face to face with her reflection.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie lets her eyes travel over her own body, so familiar yet so new at the same time. The high neckline and thin straps of the dress show off her toned arms, and the slinky material hugs at the curve of her hips. The hemline is much shorter than anything she’s ever worn, showing off her legs in a way that feels a little thrilling.</p><p> </p><p>She looks <em> good</em>.</p><p> </p><p>And she <em> feels </em> good.</p><p> </p><p>Wearing this dress doesn’t feel the same as wearing the dresses her mother picks out. Maggie had always harbored a secret disdain for dresses and skirts, even long after she gave up on fighting with her mother about wearing them. (She remembers being six or seven, kicking and wriggling as her mother wrestled her into a green velvet dress with an itchy lace collar for Christmas Eve mass.)</p><p> </p><p>But this is different. No one is forcing her to wear this dress—she’s wearing it because she <em> wants </em> to.</p><p> </p><p>And that makes all the difference in the world.</p><p> </p><p>With a grin, she turns back to face the other girls. “I really like it.”</p><p> </p><p>A small chorus of cheering and whooping erupts from the group, all three chattering at once as they gush over how incredible the dress looks. Maggie’s always had a difficult time accepting compliments, but she finds they’re a little easier to believe when she believes them herself.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, so, this is the one, right? I probably don’t need to—”</p><p> </p><p>“Maggie Sawyer, you promised us a fashion show. Get your hot little ass in another dress.”</p><p> </p><p>Lucy’s tone leaves no room for negotiating, and Maggie chuckles as she moves back to the other side of the room. Over the next several minutes, she tries on dress after dress, her smile growing wider and wider with each one as the girls keep up a constant stream of enthusiastic approval. Finally, there’s only one dress left, black and sleeveless with a confusing criss-cross of laces on either side.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie manages to get it on—after some contorting and maneuvering—and turns to face the group again. “Okay, here’s the last one.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a beat of silence as everyone just looks at her, and uncertainty starts to creep up the back of her neck. She’s about to open her mouth to ask what’s wrong when Lucy finally speaks.</p><p> </p><p>“Maggie,” she says slowly, “I think...I hate you.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie blinks. “I...what?”</p><p> </p><p>“How <em> dare </em> you look so much better in that dress than I do?!” Lucy exclaims, and Maggie produces a very unflattering noise somewhere between a choke and a snort.</p><p> </p><p>“You literally look so good,” Christina agrees.</p><p> </p><p>“Come look,” Katie urges, tugging her in front of the mirror once more.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s breath catches in her throat. Like the first dress, this one has a high neck, but the shoulders are wider. The black fabric is sleek but sturdy, supporting her while emphasizing every curve. And the laces up the sides show off just a hint of her tan skin without being too revealing. She looks, and feels—for possibly the first time in her life—just a little bit sexy.</p><p> </p><p>It’s exhilarating.</p><p> </p><p>“Maggie, if you don’t wear this dress tonight, I’m kicking you off the team when I become captain next year,” Lucy threatens, raising one challenging eyebrow as she meets Maggie’s eyes in the mirror.</p><p> </p><p> Maggie bites back a grin and holds Lucy’s gaze as she nods. “Yes, ma’am.”</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>A couple hours later, everyone’s finished styling their hair and applying their makeup (Maggie had allowed Lucy to dust some dark, smoky eyeshadow across her eyelids and found herself pleasantly surprised at how much she liked the sultry look it gave her) and it’s finally time to go.</p><p> </p><p>Before they leave, Christina holds her phone out and snaps a photo of the four of them, and Maggie has to bite down on her lip to keep from smiling too wide.</p><p> </p><p>After a few minor mishaps as Maggie attempts to walk down the stairs in her borrowed pair of heels, they make it outside and start heading across campus toward the upperclassman housing. As they get nearer, Maggie can hear music playing, the thumping bass echoing around the courtyard and growing louder as they approach. The party is already in full swing.</p><p> </p><p>(Maggie had assumed they would arrive on time, or maybe a little early to be polite, but according to Lucy, that’s not allowed. What’s the point of telling everyone what time the party starts if you don’t actually want them to show up until later?)</p><p> </p><p>Once they make their way inside, Maggie tries not to gasp aloud. It’s like something out of a movie; she hadn’t known that people actually threw parties like this in real life. The music is pounding, so loud the walls seem to vibrate around her. The place is absolutely packed with people, drinking and dancing and shouting. To her left, there’s a group of frat boys playing beer pong, beer sloshing out of their red Solo cups as they jostle one another. (Maggie rolls her eyes.) To her right, there’s a group of tall, thin girls in matching crop tops posing for each other’s Instagram stories.</p><p> </p><p>And in the middle of the room, dancing up against a dark-haired girl in a slinky blue dress, is Alex Danvers.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s breath catches in her throat as her heart tries to decide if it wants to start beating at double speed or stop altogether.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a sinking feeling in her stomach as she watches Alex and this girl move against one another, her eyes tracking the way Alex’s long fingers splay across the other girl’s hips. She doesn’t know what she’d expected when Alex had invited her here. It’s not like she was just going to sit around and wait for Maggie to show up. But part of her had hoped—and maybe even expected—that Alex would want to spend time with her, just the two of them.</p><p> </p><p>She can see now that she was mistaken.</p><p> </p><p>Just as she’s about to turn and follow Lucy into the crowd, Alex turns her head, her eyes locking with Maggie’s across the room. Her face lights up with a grin, and Maggie can’t help but grin back at her. Then Alex is leaning down and murmuring something into the other girl’s ear, and Maggie’s stomach starts to churn, but then the girl is stepping away and Alex is moving across the crowded room towards Maggie, still grinning.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie is flooded with relief and joy and pride and a little bit of excitement as Alex crosses the room to get to her. She <em> does </em> want to spend time together.</p><p> </p><p>“Sawyer, you made it!” Alex’s smile is broad and confident, her eyes dancing. Even under the shitty campus housing fluorescent lighting, she looks beautiful.</p><p> </p><p>(Like, objectively, she’s very pretty. You’d have to be blind not to notice. It’s not weird that Maggie notices.)</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Danvers,” she says, her voice coming out lower than she’d intended. She clears her throat. “I thought you said you owned a dress,” she teases, gesturing to the ripped jeans and grey t-shirt Alex is wearing. A sleek, black leather jacket is the only thing dressing up the outfit.</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> do</em>,” Alex insists. “They’re only for special occasions.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie gasps, one hand coming up to her chest in mock indignation. “And this party isn’t a special occasion?”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up,” Alex says with a roll of her eyes, lightly shoving at Maggie’s shoulder. Something electric crackles to life in the place where her hand touches Maggie’s bare skin, and she sucks in a breath. “You clean up nice, though,” Alex continues, her hand waving vaguely towards Maggie’s dress.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, um, thank you.” Maggie’s fingertips brush against her own flushed cheeks as she pushes her hair back behind her ears.</p><p> </p><p>“So I was—”</p><p> </p><p>Alex cuts herself off, her eyes darting somewhere behind Maggie’s head when somebody shouts, “Danvers!”</p><p> </p><p>She looks back to Maggie with an apologetic smile, a deep crease forming between her eyebrows. “Sorry, I promised my teammates I’d help them kick the men’s team’s asses at flip cup. Talk to you later?”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie plasters a smile on her face and nods, hoping her face doesn’t betray the way her heart is sinking into her stomach. “Yeah, okay. I’ll, um, I’ll catch you later.”</p><p> </p><p>(She cringes inwardly. Who <em> says </em> that?)</p><p> </p><p>As Alex makes her way toward her teammates, Maggie scans the room for Lucy and the others, hoping they haven’t gotten too far. She can’t find Katie or Christina, but she catches sight of Lucy’s short brown hair and hurries to catch up with her, stumbling a little in her heels.</p><p> </p><p>Before Maggie can say anything, Lucy asks, “You know Alex Danvers?” </p><p> </p><p>Her brow is arched high, and there’s a mischievous gleam in her eyes that makes Maggie nervous.</p><p> </p><p>She shrugs, hoping it comes across casual. “Doesn’t everyone?”</p><p> </p><p>“You know what I mean,” Lucy presses.</p><p> </p><p>“I…” Maggie swallows. “We’re friends. We just, you know, hang out. And talk.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie doesn’t know why, but she’s feeling defensive about this. They’re friends, so what?</p><p> </p><p>Then Lucy smirks, her expression turning downright evil. “I know from experience that mouth does a lot more than just talk.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s brain stutters to a stop as she tries to process too much new information at once. Lucy is...gay? And she’s hooked up with Alex before? When? How many times? Was it a one-time thing or was it more than that? </p><p> </p><p>And why does the thought of them together make Maggie’s heart feel like it’s deflating inside her chest?</p><p> </p><p>“I...you’re...I didn’t know,” she manages. And then, without thinking, she adds, “Didn’t you have a boyfriend last semester?”</p><p> </p><p>Luckily, Lucy just chuckles, shaking her head fondly. “Yeah, I did.” She levels a glance at Maggie. “Where are you from again? Kansas? They don’t have bisexuals in Kansas?”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s entire face flushes. “I, um, Nebraska, actually. I...I’m sure we have ‘em, I’ve just never met them.”</p><p> </p><p>“That you know of.”</p><p> </p><p>She blinks. “I...I guess you’re right.” She’s never thought about that.</p><p> </p><p>A loud, boisterous cheer rises up from the other side of the room, and Maggie glances to find Alex grinning proudly as several of her teammates slap her on the back. A smile tugs at Maggie’s lips as she watches her for a long moment before turning back to Lucy.</p><p> </p><p>“How did you…” she trails off, the question dying on her lips. <em> How did you know you were gay? </em></p><p> </p><p>Lucy just looks at her quietly, a knowing look in her eye that makes Maggie feel exposed. Then she’s saying, “Come on,” and throwing an arm around her shoulders, leading her further into the party.</p><p> </p><p>They hang out together for a while, just the two of them, and it’s nice. They talk for a bit (as well as they can, shouting over the music) before Lucy drags Maggie to the middle of the room and commands, “Dance.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I don’t really…”</p><p> </p><p>“Maggie, we are literally on the dance team together, I know you’re not about to say you don’t dance.”</p><p> </p><p>“But that’s—”</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, like this.”</p><p> </p><p>Lucy starts moving, swaying her hips to the beat of whatever song is blasting through the speakers. For a moment, Maggie can only stand there, watching, but she quickly realizes that being the only person not dancing is even more uncomfortable than the idea of dancing along with everyone.</p><p> </p><p>She starts to sway, trying to match Lucy’s movements. The song changes to something Maggie actually knows the lyrics to, and she grows bolder, bending her knees as she swivels her hips. At the chorus, Lucy grabs onto her hands and Maggie lets out a delighted laugh as she spins her around.</p><p> </p><p>For the next several songs, they dance together, spinning and giggling and singing along at the top of their lungs. Maggie can’t remember the last time she felt this happy.</p><p> </p><p>She also can’t remember the last time her feet hurt this much (probably that one summer she tried taking a pointe class) so she’s glad to take a break when Lucy asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, I’ll, uh, I’ll catch up with you in a little bit, okay?” Lucy says, her eyes darting somewhere behind Maggie for the fifth time in the last minute. When Maggie turns, she catches sight of James Olsen striding toward them, and she looks back at Lucy with a knowing smirk.</p><p> </p><p>“Have fun,” she tells her, and Lucy grins as she makes her way toward James.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s feet are aching, so she walks as gracefully as she can back to the other side of the room, letting out a little sigh as she leans against the wall. There’s still an uncomfortable pressure on her toes, but she savors the little bit of relief she gets.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” comes a voice from somewhere to her right. “Maddie, right?”</p><p> </p><p>She turns her head and finds a boy from her math class—Collin, maybe?—grinning as he leans against the wall beside her. His freckled cheeks are red and blotchy and his hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat. Maggie fights the urge to wrinkle her nose in disgust.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s Maggie, actually,” she corrects, giving him a sweet smile with no actual sweetness behind it.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, right, right,” he says, his words slurring together as he sways closer to her. “I’m Connor.”</p><p> </p><p>(Connor, Collin, close enough.)</p><p> </p><p>Maggie smiles politely, just the corners of her mouth pulling up as her lips remain pressed together tightly.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re on the dance team, right?” he asks.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie nods. “Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor wiggles his eyebrows. “That’s kinda hot.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s stomach twists, a feeling of unease rising up inside her, but she tries her best to smile, forcing out an uncomfortable laugh. “Uh, thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>Connor leans even closer, and Maggie can smell the alcohol on his breath. “You wanna dance with me? Show me some moves?” He’s grinning like he’s proud of himself for coming up with that line, and it makes Maggie’s skin crawl.</p><p> </p><p>“Um…” Her eyes dart around the room, desperate for an out. She spots a small group of people stumbling out the front door, giggling and whispering to each other, and the thought of getting out of this cramped, sweaty room is overwhelmingly appealing. “I’m actually about to head outside. Gotta, um, catch up with...my friends,” she lies, gesturing vaguely toward the door.</p><p> </p><p>Connor’s eyebrows knit together as he blinks slowly, seemingly processing her response, before he shrugs. “Okay,” he says simply, pushing off the wall and disappearing into the crowd.</p><p> </p><p>Well, that was easier than Maggie had anticipated.</p><p> </p><p>She glances back toward the front door, the promise of fresh air too enticing to ignore. She makes her way through the crowded room, maneuvering around her classmates’ sweaty bodies and dodging errant ping pong balls until she makes it outside. As soon as the door closes behind her, she releases a heavy sigh, closing her eyes and savoring the cool night air against her skin.</p><p> </p><p>The music is still pulsing behind her, but the sound is dulled now. She relishes the relative quiet, taking a few steps forward to put some more distance between herself and the party still raging behind the closed door.</p><p> </p><p>The quiet only lasts a few seconds before the door opens again, all the sounds from the other side spilling out for a brief moment as someone steps outside.</p><p> </p><p>The door closes again with a soft click, and Maggie hears the person’s footsteps falter, stopping almost as soon as they start. </p><p> </p><p>“Maggie?”</p><p> </p><p>She turns, her confusion melting into delight when she realizes who’s there. “Alex! Hey,” she says, probably a little too enthusiastically, but she doesn’t care right now.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Alex says back, her boots scuffing against the concrete as she shuffles closer. “Enjoying the party?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I just… I needed a breather.” She glances back out at the night sky, the twinkling stars barely visible.</p><p> </p><p>“Me too,” Alex sighs, and Maggie’s drawn back to her face. The silver light of the moon softens her angular features, skimming along the tops of her cheekbones and sloping down the bridge of her nose. Maggie finds herself thinking, once again, that she’s beautiful.</p><p> </p><p>She looks a little tired, and maybe a little sad, but she’s beautiful, and Maggie just wants to keep looking at her.</p><p> </p><p>Then Alex is looking at her expectantly, her head cocked just slightly, and Maggie realizes that she’s asked her a question. Heat bursts across her cheeks as she sheepishly asks Alex to repeat herself.</p><p> </p><p>“I asked if you wanted to walk with me?” She says it like a question, and there’s a hint of nervousness underneath her bemused grin.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh! Yeah, of course.” Maggie nods, and Alex’s smile widens. </p><p> </p><p>They set off down the sidewalk, walking side by side. Maggie tries not to notice the way Lucy’s shoes pinch at her toes with every step, but that gets harder and harder with every passing moment. Alex is talking to her, making light conversation, and Maggie struggles to pay attention as the backs of the shoes start digging into her ankles.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, can we—”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, are you—”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie cuts herself off with a nervous laugh, blushing. “Sorry, go ahead.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no,” Alex says, slowing her stride and dipping her head to catch Maggie’s gaze. “What were you saying?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I was just…” Maggie glances down at her feet before meeting Alex’s eyes with a sheepish grin. “My feet are killing me,” she admits, and Alex seems to relax a little. “Do you think we could sit down somewhere?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.” Alex nods earnestly, and Maggie’s brain supplies the word <em> adorable</em>. “Come on.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex leads her through the courtyard before turning a corner and taking them down a path Maggie’s never noticed before. She follows Alex through the sparse trees, and just when she’s ready to kick the shoes off and walk barefoot, they come to a stop in front of a small wooden bench.</p><p> </p><p>Alex sweeps her arm through the air, gesturing for Maggie to sit down, and she eagerly complies. As soon as she’s finally seated, relief floods through her, and she can’t even be embarrassed about the long, contented hum she releases. Alex chuckles as she sits down near the other end of the bench, crossing one leg over the other.</p><p> </p><p>“That good, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m never wearing heels again,” Maggie groans as she toes the shoes off, flexing her feet against the cool air. </p><p> </p><p>She brings her legs up and tucks them beside her, shifting a little in the tight dress before she relaxes into a comfortable position. To her left, she hears Alex let out a soft, quiet laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” she asks, shooting her a look.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing, I’ve just never seen you do anything so, uh...unladylike.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie stiffens at that word, the weight of it, but Alex continues.</p><p> </p><p>“I like it. Looks good on you, Sawyer.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie rolls her eyes. “Thanks,” she deadpans.</p><p> </p><p>“I mean it,” Alex insists. “I like seeing you relaxed. It’s like you’re...I don’t know, letting me see the real you. I like it,” she repeats.</p><p> </p><p>Alex’s eyes are wide and earnest and sincere, and Maggie trusts her. So she takes a deep breath and tells her something she’s never admitted out loud before. “Honestly, it’s kind of...it’s exhausting. Trying to be prim and proper and, and <em> ladylike</em>, all the time.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex’s eyebrows scrunch up as she nods sympathetically. “Yeah?” she prompts softly.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie sighs, her back slumping against the bench. “It’s just...my mom expects so much from me, and my dad too, and they’ve always wanted me to be this perfect, dainty, good Catholic girl.” She rolls her eyes as she says it, her voice dripping with disdain. “And their expectations have become everyone else’s expectations for me too. And even my own,” she says, perhaps realizing it for the first time. “I don’t even like wearing dresses and skirts and lipstick every day, but I do it anyway because even I’ve started to expect those things from myself. I’ll feel bad if I don’t do it, like...like I’m failing.” Alex is looking at her, and she feels heat creeping up her neck as she realizes she’s been rambling. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to over-share.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, no, it’s okay.” Alex’s comes up to Maggie’s bicep, squeezing gently before letting go. “I get it. My mom puts <em> so </em> much pressure on me. Always has, especially with school. When I was younger, she’d threaten to make me quit basketball if my grades dropped even a little bit. So I worked my ass off to prove that I could do both, and that I could be really <em> good </em> at both. And I get what you’re saying about other people’s expectations, too. Everyone here expects me to be this, like, typical athlete, you know, and sometimes I feel like I’m putting so much effort into keeping up this...this image that they have of me. I don’t know,” she mumbles, dropping her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” Maggie says, keeping her voice light, “I already know that you’re a secret nerd, <em> and </em> that you’re a secret softie for your little sister, so you don’t have to pretend around me.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex smiles, her eyes shining. “And I already know that you’re not just a goody two-shoes. I heard you say ‘shit’ once. And one time I even saw you wear jeans.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie snorts, and then they’re both dissolving into laughter, the heaviness that had settled over them evaporating.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t come find you sooner,” Alex tells her. “Things got a little crazy in there. I had to get some fresh air, and I was planning on looking for you after, but then…” She gestures toward Maggie, waving her hand around. “There you were. It was kind of perfect, actually.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie ducks her head, reaching up with one hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I needed to get out of there. There was this...this guy…” She grimaces, scrunching up her nose.</p><p> </p><p>Alex leans forward, concerned. “What happened?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, no, no, nothing like...nothing bad,” Maggie rushes to explain. “I just, you know. Wasn’t interested.” It feels like a lie, almost. There’s more to it than that, but Maggie doesn’t want to think about it.</p><p> </p><p>Alex’s face scrunches up in a sympathetic sort of wince. “That sucks.”</p><p> </p><p>Something about Alex, something in the kind, open expression on her face, makes Maggie feel safe. So she keeps talking. “I just...my whole life has been about being perfect. Perfect grades, perfect scores at every dance competition. Being the perfect daughter. But um...the one part I’ve never been able to make perfect was...was dating.” She swallows, nervous. She’s never talked about this with anyone before. “I just, I don’t know, I never really liked it. And, I mean, I tried. I...I dated this guy last year, for a little while. But, um...that didn’t work out.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex hums, listening. “What happened?” she prompts softly.</p><p> </p><p>“He, um…” Maggie rubs her thumb along her lower lip. “He would get upset that I wouldn’t make time for him. He said I was insensitive, too obsessed with dance, and school, and he, uh, he called me borderline sociopathic.” She laughs, short and humorless. “I guess he was kind of right. It sounds bad but...I didn’t really...<em> care </em> about him. When he broke up with me I didn’t even feel sad.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie doesn’t add the other major catalyst for their breakup: the fact that she refused to have sex with him. He didn’t say it outright, but she knew that was part of it. She’d been able to use her religious upbringing to her advantage, telling him that premarital sex was against her beliefs, but it had felt like a feeble excuse. </p><p> </p><p>But the truth, the utter disgust she felt at the thought of being intimate with him, was too much for her to think about, so she had pushed it down as far as she could.</p><p> </p><p>Now, sitting here with Alex, all those thoughts and emotions come rushing to the surface again. Her head is spinning with them, with feelings she’s been repressing for so long she’d almost managed to forget about them. Images flash through her mind—sliding into Eliza Wilke’s bunk at summer camp, heart beating fast as she snuggled in close under the covers. Watching from the wings as Jenna Michaelson performed her solo at the spring dance recital, unable to tear her eyes away from the bright red costume clinging to her torso. Alex Danvers smiling at her from across the basketball court, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.</p><p> </p><p>She thinks about Alex’s hand on her arm earlier tonight, the way sparks had sizzled on her skin where she’d touched her. She thinks about the nervous, tingling feeling she gets every time Alex looks at her, those warm hazel eyes piercing through all her defenses. She thinks about the swooping feeling in her stomach whenever Alex’s name flashes across her phone screen.</p><p> </p><p>She thinks about Alex’s lips, full and pink, and she thinks about how they would feel pressed against her own.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie scrambles to her feet, using her hands to push herself off the bench. “I’m sorry, I, I have to go.” She bends down to pick up Lucy’s heels, holding one in each hand, and backs up away from Alex, not caring how the rough pavement scratches against her bare feet.</p><p> </p><p>“Is everything okay?” Alex asks, eyes wide with alarm as she moves to stand up.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie shuffles backwards even further, feeling a twig snap beneath her foot in her haste. “Yeah, yeah, I just...I have to go. Sorry. I’ll...I’ll see you around.”</p><p> </p><p>She turns, striding quickly back up the path Alex had led her down.</p><p> </p><p>“Maggie, wait—”</p><p> </p><p>Tears prick at her eyes, but she keeps walking.</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t look back.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>For the next week, Maggie studiously ignores Alex, finding a new seat a few rows back in Dr. Gibson’s class and avoiding her gaze across the basketball court over the weekend. She throws herself into her schoolwork and pushes herself harder than ever at dance practice.</p><p> </p><p>One night, as she’s leaning against the gym wall, panting hard and wiping sweat from her brow, Lucy approaches her.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, you doing okay?” she asks, looking equal parts confused and concerned.</p><p> </p><p>They’ve been talking more, both during and outside of practice, but never about anything too serious. So Lucy’s tone catches Maggie off guard.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“I just noticed you’ve kind of been...going extra hard at practice lately. And you just seem a little…” She pauses, frowning a little. “I wanted to make sure everything was alright.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. I, um, yeah. I’m fine.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie expects that to be the end of it, but Lucy plants her feet and fixes her with an incredulous stare.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re going to have to do better than that if you want me to believe you.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie splutters. “I—”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, obviously, but if you need someone”—Lucy makes sure to look right into her eyes—“I’m here for you, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie nods, twice, before dropping her eyes to the freshly waxed gym floor. “Thank you. But I’m okay, really.”</p><p> </p><p>She flicks her eyes back up to Lucy’s to give her a quick, tight smile before turning and busying herself with her duffel bag, digging around for her extra water bottle.</p><p> </p><p>Soon, their coach is calling, “Okay ladies, let’s go!” and everyone is filing back onto the gym floor. Maggie takes her position, rolling her shoulders back as she settles into her spot. Then the music is on again, blasting in her ears and thrumming through her bloodstream, drowning out all other thoughts. She moves with precision, feeling the muscles in her arms and legs start to ache as she pushes herself harder and harder.</p><p> </p><p>She’s fine. As long as she keeps moving, she’s fine.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>She’s not fine.</p><p> </p><p>Another week passes, and then another, and she can’t stop thinking about Alex.</p><p> </p><p>She distracts herself with homework and dance routines as best she can, but it’s not enough. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t get that night out of her head. All those thoughts and feelings and memories that had come flooding back to her, puzzle pieces starting to fit together to form a picture she’s been too scared to look at.</p><p> </p><p>She takes a deep breath in and holds it before letting it out, slow and smooth and even. She picks up her phone, scrolls through her contacts, and presses the call button. </p><p> </p><p>Lucy picks up on the second ring.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Maggie, what’s up? Is everything okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“I, um, I was just… Do you still… You said you, uh, I could talk to you? If I needed to?” She hates how nervous she sounds. “Is that still, um… Can I? Talk to you?”</p><p> </p><p>Lucy always has a playfulness about her, a hint of teasing infused in everything she says. But her voice is completely serious when she says, “Of course. Do you want to come over, or should I come to you?”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie doesn’t know why, but she feels like crying. “I’ll, I’ll come to you.” After a pause, she adds, “Thank you,” so quietly she’s almost whispering into the phone.</p><p> </p><p>When she hangs up, she releases a long, shuddering breath before locking eyes with herself in the mirror. She squares her shoulders, lifting her chin as she stands as tall as she can. She can do this. She can.</p><p> </p><p>Right?</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>The walk to Lucy’s dorm is quick, and soon Maggie is standing in front of her door again. It seems bigger now, looming ominously over her as she reaches up to knock.</p><p> </p><p>The door creaks slightly as it pushes open, and then she’s face to face with Lucy.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, come on in.”</p><p> </p><p>Lucy holds the door open and Maggie gives her a weak smile as she shuffles across the threshold. She takes in the familiar details of the room, eyes lingering on Lucy’s closet where that black sleeveless dress is probably hanging now, back where it belongs. Maggie had been quick to return it, desperate to distance herself from that night as much as possible.</p><p> </p><p>But now she’s here, and Lucy has offered to listen, and if Maggie doesn’t talk to someone about it soon she’s going to explode.</p><p> </p><p>“So, what’s—”</p><p> </p><p>“How did you know you liked girls?”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s eyes go wide after the words tumble out of her mouth, one hand coming up as though to prevent any more from spilling out. But Lucy just smiles kindly and gestures for Maggie to sit on the bed. Maggie’s ears are ringing, and her mind feels numb as they both settle atop the deep blue comforter.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that what’s been bothering you? What you wanted to talk about?” Lucy asks gently, and Maggie can tell by her voice that she already knows the answer.</p><p> </p><p>So she nods, pathetically, her lower lip trembling as she tries desperately not to burst into tears. “I just, um, I’ve been…”</p><p> </p><p>The dam breaks, and everything that’s been building up for the past few weeks—and years, and maybe her entire life—comes rushing out, all at once. She tells Lucy everything. About Eliza Wilke at summer camp. About her parents and their expectations, and how she hadn’t even known that being...that liking girls was even an option for her. About Sunday morning church sermons and whispered rumors about so-and-so’s son holding hands with another boy.</p><p> </p><p>And then, haltingly, between shallow, shaky breaths, she tells her about Alex. How she’d disliked her at first without really understanding why. How they’d slowly become friends, bonding over shared interests and bantering easily back and forth. How she’d come to feel more comfortable around Alex than she ever has with anyone before, and how she’d opened up to her the night of the party, the night it all came crashing down.</p><p> </p><p>“And I just, I always thought that dating just wasn’t for me, you know? I just never liked it, and I thought that was that. But now…” Maggie swallows. “Now, I just can’t stop thinking about…”</p><p> </p><p>Lucy nods encouragingly, prodding her to continue.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie decides to be brave. </p><p> </p><p>“About Alex.”</p><p> </p><p>She says it in the tiniest voice, almost a whisper, but she says it, out loud, and Lucy beams at her like she’s proud of her, and Maggie can’t help but feel a little bit proud of herself too. She feels like something heavy has just been lifted off her chest, something she’s been carrying around for so long she’d stopped even noticing the weight of it. </p><p> </p><p>“Are we, like, at the hugging stage in our friendship yet? I’m leaning towards yes because you just told me your deepest darkest secret but I just want to confirm.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie huffs out a laugh, grateful for Lucy lightening the heavy mood. She rolls her eyes and releases an exaggerated sigh as she extends her arms, and Lucy is quick to enfold her in a firm, solid embrace.</p><p> </p><p>When they pull back, Lucy looks right into her eyes and says, “I’m proud of you, Maggie. And thank you for telling me, and trusting me.” Maggie nods, eyes watery, and then Lucy’s serious expression slides into a grin. “Now, do you want to hear some stories about Baby Gay Lucy?”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie sniffles, then laughs again, before settling more comfortably on Lucy’s bed. “Yes, please.”</p><p> </p><p>They sit there for a long time, Lucy telling stories and answering Maggie’s nervous questions. It’s so nice, having someone to talk to like this. Someone who understands. Someone who can help make everything a little less scary.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie tells her as much when she finally gets up to leave, knees a little sore from sitting in the same position for so long. “Thank you. I mean it. I, I’m really glad you’re my friend.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course. You can talk to me any time.” Lucy’s smile widens. “And I’m glad we’re friends too. I’m <em> so </em> happy to finally have another gay friend, there are way too many straight girls on the dance team.”</p><p> </p><p>And for once, Maggie doesn’t flinch at the word <em> gay</em>. It doesn’t feel shameful or dirty or sinful, or anything else she’s been taught her entire life. It feels good, comforting almost.</p><p> </p><p>It feels right.</p><p> </p><p>When she walks back to her dorm, she can’t stop grinning the whole way.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>She has to talk to Alex.</p><p> </p><p>She knows that. She owes her an apology and an explanation. But how is she supposed to explain what’s been going on with her without revealing that she started thinking about kissing her that night and never stopped? That one conversation with her on an old wooden bench in the middle of the night had accidentally unlocked a lifetime’s worth of repressed feelings?</p><p> </p><p>She’s typed out and deleted more messages than she can count, only growing more frustrated as she struggles to figure out what to say to her. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hi Alex. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Delete.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hey Alex. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>That’s better, right? More casual.</p><p> </p><p><em> It’s Maggie</em>, she adds, just in case Alex deleted her number sometime in the last few weeks.</p><p> </p><p>She stares down at her phone screen, the cursor blinking up at her, and sighs. Just as she’s about to delete the entire thing and start over for the millionth time, her phone dings with an incoming text.</p><p> </p><p>Her heart stops in her chest when she sees who it’s from.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hi Maggie, it’s Alex. Just checking in. I know you’ve been busy lately, but do you want to hang out sometime, maybe this weekend? I kinda miss having you as my study buddy. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Maggie rereads the message four times, her eyes scanning back and forth over the screen. Alex wants to see her. Alex doesn’t hate her. Alex <em> misses </em> her.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie nearly drops her phone as she fumbles to type out a reply. <em> Hey Alex! </em> (She doesn’t give herself time to second-guess the exclamation point.) <em> That sounds great. Anything you have in mind? </em></p><p> </p><p>Alex’s response comes a few moments later. <em> Want to meet for coffee? </em> And a few seconds after that, <em> We can bring our homework and pretend we’re being productive. </em></p><p> </p><p>Maggie grins as she types her affirmative reply, and they make plans to meet at the campus cafe on Saturday afternoon.</p><p> </p><p>She’s still nervous about seeing Alex again, and she knows she’ll spend the next few days agonizing over what to say, but right now she’s too happy to care. She’d thought she’d ruined things when she bolted on Alex at the party and then ghosted her for nearly a month—which she can admit was a total asshole move—but now she’s got a chance to save this friendship. </p><p> </p><p>(And if she’s brave, maybe a chance to turn it into something more.)</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>Maggie gets to the cafe way too early on Saturday, too anxious to wait in her room any longer. She settles into a booth in the far corner, pulling out her laptop and opening up an assignment that’s due next week. She tries to focus, but she can’t stop her eyes from darting toward the door every few minutes.</p><p> </p><p>She’s written two sentences by the time Alex arrives. Maggie’s heart flutters nervously as soon as she spots her mop of reddish-brown hair from across the room, and it does backflips inside her chest when Alex meets her eyes and smiles at her.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Alex says when she reaches the table, dropping her bag on the opposite booth. “Want me to grab us drinks, since you’re already set up here?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, no, it’s okay,” Maggie tries to protest, but Alex waves her off.</p><p> </p><p>“Just tell me what you want, Sawyer.”</p><p> </p><p><em> You</em>, she thinks, wondering what it would be like to pull Alex down by the strings of her hoodie and kiss her.</p><p> </p><p>“Um, just a green tea,” she manages, warmth rising in her cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>Alex wrinkles her nose. “Gross.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up,” she grins, and Alex chuckles as she walks away.</p><p> </p><p>She’s wearing those grey sweatpants again, the ones that cling to her in a positively indecent way, and Maggie can’t tear her eyes away. She’d noticed before, but it feels different this time. Maybe because she’s actually admitting to herself that she’s noticing what she’s noticing.</p><p> </p><p>And Alex Danvers has a lot for her to notice.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie shifts her attention back to her laptop screen, trying and failing to focus on her assignment. She ends up just reading and rereading the two sentences she’s already written until Alex comes back.</p><p> </p><p>Fortunately, the line is short, so it isn’t long before Alex returns with their drinks. When she hands Maggie her tea, their fingers brush just slightly, and Maggie tingles all the way down to her toes. “Thank you,” she says, but Alex brushes it off with an easy smile and a one-shouldered shrug.</p><p> </p><p>As Alex slides into her side of the booth, Maggie notices the drink in front of her, a large iced coffee that looks like it tastes sickeningly sweet. She raises an eyebrow, amused that badass MVP Alex Danvers has such a sweet tooth. </p><p> </p><p>“So, how have you been?” Alex asks, and Maggie blanches.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” she says, instinctively. “Just, you know, busy. How about you?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve been alright. My coach has been kicking my ass lately, though.” She launches into a story about last night’s practice, and Maggie grins against the lid of her cup as she settles back to listen.</p><p> </p><p>They talk for a while, catching up in between sips of their drinks. It’s only been a few weeks since the last time she talked to Alex, but she’d missed her so much. It’s almost overwhelming, the sense of relief that floods through her at being able to sit across from her and trade stories and stupid jokes again.</p><p> </p><p>During a lull in the conversation, Maggie takes a deep breath and plunges into the subject they’ve both been avoiding. “Hey, so, um…” She fiddles with the cardboard sleeve around her paper cup. “About that night, at the party...I’m sorry for bolting on you. I just, um, I’ve had a lot going on and it was just… I couldn’t…” Maggie trails off, floundering.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” comes Alex’s voice, soft and reassuring. “It’s okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie could cry at the gentle, sympathetic smile on Alex’s face. “I just, I didn’t want you to think that I was, I don’t know, upset with you or anything like that. And I should have reached out sooner, I was just…” She sighs. “I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex just smiles again, kind and patient. “Do you want to talk about what’s been going on? I’m here to listen if you need it.”</p><p> </p><p>And Maggie’s hands are shaking, and her heart is clawing its way up her throat, but she can do this. “I actually, um…” She blows out a breath. “Do you remember, when we were talking about, um, dating?” Alex nods, tuned in to the seriousness of Maggie’s voice. “It, um, it got me thinking that maybe...maybe there was another reason that I’d never liked it. So I started thinking, and then I couldn’t <em> stop </em> thinking, and then it was like all these pieces were coming together and I...I realized...I think I’m…” She wants desperately to look down, but Alex holds her gaze, firm and steady. “I’m gay.”</p><p> </p><p>She’s never said it out loud before, and as scary as it is, it feels so good.</p><p> </p><p>A brilliant smile lights up Alex’s face and she leans even closer across the table. “Yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Maggie says, voice thick with tears. “Yeah, I’m...yeah.” She just nods, trying her best not to cry, and Alex reaches out and grasps one of her hands, squeezing tightly.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so proud of you,” she tells her, her voice hushed but fierce. “And I’m here for you, okay? I know it can be scary when you’re first coming out, but you don’t have to go through it alone.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie doesn’t trust herself to speak, so she just nods again, hoping Alex will understand how grateful she is.</p><p> </p><p>After a little while, Alex pulls her hand back, and Maggie misses the contact instantly. “Have you told anyone else?” Alex asks, not judging or demanding, just curious.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, um...just one other person.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, that’s great,” Alex encourages. “I’m really happy for you, Maggie.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s throat is tight, but she manages a quiet, “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex leans on her elbow, her eyes twinkling with delight. “So, has anyone caught your eye? A lucky lady you’d want to go out with?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, um…” Maggie’s heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of her chest. “I don’t...I don’t know,” she lies, her eyes dropping to the table.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, if you need any help let me know,” Alex says playfully. “But there’s no rush, obviously,” she hurries to add. “Take your time.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie nods, trying to muster a smile as her heart sinks in her chest. She knows what she wants, <em> who </em> she wants, but it’s clear that Alex doesn’t feel the same.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, you know what?” Alex says a few moments later. “We should go shopping.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shopping?”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s mind flashes immediately to long, tedious trips to the mall in Omaha with her mother, and she grimaces.</p><p> </p><p>“I was thinking about what you said at the party, about how you’ve kind of been put in a box, with the frilly skirts and everything. And, well, I noticed you’ve been wearing jeans more often, and I don’t know, I thought we could go and get you some new clothes for your, uh, newly liberated lifestyle,” she says with a grin. “I know when I first came out, I chopped off all my hair and went a little crazy with trying to look like a lesbian. Whatever that means.” She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “But you deserve to have clothes you’re comfortable in, and now seems like a good time to start figuring out what you like.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s...yeah, that sounds really nice, actually. Thank you.” She’s touched at the offer, and at the fact that Alex noticed and remembered so many things about her.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m here to be your guide for all things gay,” Alex tells her with a wink.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Maggie laughs. “What would I ever do without you?”</p><p> </p><p>She says it lightly, jokingly, but she hopes Alex can hear the sincere gratitude behind it.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>There’s a game on Friday, and an exam in Gibson’s class on Monday, so they make plans to have their shopping trip the following weekend. On Saturday night, Maggie gets a text from Alex asking if she wants to meet up for a last minute cram session. She agrees eagerly, and they spend Sunday afternoon at their usual table in the library before ending up in Maggie’s room with styrofoam containers from the cafeteria.</p><p> </p><p>They sit on the floor, Alex eating her pizza and Maggie eating her noodles. Conversation flows easily between them, and Maggie’s never felt this comfortable with someone before. She doesn’t have to be perfect in front of Alex—she can hunch her shoulders and slurp her noodles and Alex doesn’t care.</p><p> </p><p>Alex is recounting her latest phone call with her sister, waving her pizza crust in the air as she talks. When she pauses to swipe at her bottom lip with the pad of her thumb, Maggie nearly chokes on a noodle. She’s been trying so hard not to think about Alex’s lips and that is definitely <em> not </em> helping.</p><p> </p><p>When they’re finished eating, Alex shifts a little closer and asks, “So, how are you doing with...with everything?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s, um, it’s a little overwhelming still, honestly. You know, just changing everything I ever thought I knew about myself, no big deal,” she jokes, and Alex chuckles. “But it’s been good, too. I feel like I’m getting to know myself, you know? I think I’m finally ready to start trying to live my life for me. Not for anyone else.”</p><p> </p><p>It feels cheesy to say it, but Alex is nodding like she understands completely, so maybe it’s not.</p><p> </p><p>“And that,” Alex says, pointing her finger in the air, “is why I’m taking you shopping next weekend. It’ll be such a good step to start wearing things you actually like and feel good in. We’ve got to get you out of those clothes.”</p><p> </p><p>(Maggie’s brain ceases to function for a brief moment at the thought of Alex getting her out of her clothes.)</p><p> </p><p>“I, um, yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”</p><p> </p><p>That night, she may or may not have a dream about Alex finding her in the locker room after a game and ripping off her uniform.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>The week marches by slowly, and by the weekend Maggie is jittery with nervous anticipation. Spending time alone with Alex is a double-edged sword: being around her makes her happy in a way she’s never been before, but it always comes with a painful reminder that Alex will never want to be more than friends. So while part of her is looking forward to their shopping trip, another part is dreading it.</p><p> </p><p>That dread starts creeping up as soon as she slides into the passenger seat of Alex’s car and realizes she’ll be sitting so close to her in an enclosed space for what will probably be the longest thirty minutes of her life. But then they start driving, and Alex rolls down the windows and starts singing along to some song Maggie’s never heard before about Aquaman and chickens and laughing at funerals, and Maggie can’t help but smile, relaxing against the seat.</p><p> </p><p>When they get to the mall, Alex looks over and says, “Okay, what’s something you’ve always wanted to wear but you’ve never been able to try before?</p><p> </p><p>“Hm,” Maggie starts, her mind whirring through all the possibilities as they make their way toward the entrance. “I guess, um, I’d like to get some more jeans? I always wished I could try the cool-looking ones with the holes in them.” She blushes as she says it, embarrassed for being probably the only person her age who has never worn a pair of distressed jeans.</p><p> </p><p>But Alex just nods and says, “Okay, great! I think I know a good place for us to start.” She leads her through the mall, past brightly lit storefronts and no less than six different sunglasses kiosks, until they come to a stop in front of a store Maggie’s probably walked past a dozen times but never once thought of entering.</p><p> </p><p>She walks inside, Alex right beside her, and there’s a calm atmosphere in this store that settles her nerves a little. There’s soft music playing overhead, and the customers are wearing comfortable t-shirts and soft flannels and jeans. A girl with blue hair and a nose ring nods in Alex’s direction, and Alex nods back. Maggie wonders if it’s some kind of secret lesbian code.</p><p> </p><p>“Ready?” Alex asks.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie takes a deep breath, letting it out through her nose. “Let’s do this.”</p><p> </p><p>They make their way around the store, and it’s not long before Alex is herding Maggie into the fitting room with an armful of clothes. She’s not quite ready to dive straight into the deep end, so she starts with a pair of black jeans. They’re tighter than what she usually wears, but she finds she likes the effect. It feels a little bit like slipping into Lucy’s black dress the night of the party. She pulls on a flannel shirt that’s a muted olive green sort of color and buttons it up, opting to leave the top two unbuttoned. After a moment of deliberation, she unbuttons one more. She’s not sure whether she’s supposed to tuck the shirt in or not, so she settles for tucking in the front and leaving it loose in the back.</p><p> </p><p>Nervously, she opens the fitting room door and steps out, clasping her hands together as she stands in front of Alex. “So, um, what do you think?”</p><p> </p><p>Alex is silent for a moment, her mouth gaping open. “I, uh, wow, you look great. With the jeans and the shirt and the…” She waves her hand vaguely.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s entire body flushes with warmth and her chest swells with pride at Alex’s reaction. “Thank you,” she says, looking down at her socked feet. “I feel...comfortable. More like myself.” Even though she’s still learning who she is, something about these clothes just feels right.</p><p> </p><p>“Ready for more?”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie grins. “Fuck yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>She giggles as Alex’s loud whoop echoes behind the fitting room door.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>Their shopping trip is a resounding success. Maggie tries on a lot of clothes she likes—and a lot she doesn’t—and buys the ones she feels best in. Alex convinces her to buy a knit beanie (“a lesbian essential,” she calls it) and Maggie picks one in a deep blue color. (If Alex had happened to mention earlier that her favorite color is blue, that’s merely a coincidence.)</p><p> </p><p>“You know,” Alex says on the drive home, glancing over at Maggie with a cheeky grin, “I think typically the gay friend who takes you shopping is a dude, but I think I did a pretty good job.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie rolls her eyes. “Typically or stereotypically?”</p><p> </p><p>“Touché, Sawyer.”</p><p> </p><p>They make their way back to campus, the late afternoon light slanting through the windshield, and Maggie takes a moment to appreciate how beautiful Alex looks enveloped in the golden glow. Everything about her is softer now. Her hair flows freely in the breeze from the open window, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she laughs. Maggie thinks she might be a little bit in love.</p><p> </p><p>When they finally pull up in front of Maggie’s dorm, a melancholy feeling washes over her, like she’s started missing Alex before they’ve even said goodbye. Reluctantly, she unbuckles her seatbelt and reaches for the shopping bags nestled at her feet.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait!”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie snaps up at the sound of Alex’s voice. “What’s up?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, just a sec!” Alex unbuckles her own seatbelt and reaches awkwardly across the center console to dig through one of her own shopping bags in the backseat. Her shirt rides up just slightly as she stretches, and Maggie darts her eyes away from the sliver of exposed skin. Alex pops back up with a breathless grin, a bundle of dark grey fabric in her hands. “I got this for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are these…” Maggie finds the waistband and unrolls the bundle, revealing a pair of sweatpants. “You didn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“I did.” Alex smirks. “You don’t have to start wearing them in public like some kind of uncultured heathen, or whatever you said about me that one time—”</p><p> </p><p>“I did <em> not </em> say that—”</p><p> </p><p>“But I figured you could use some comfortable clothes while you’re getting more comfortable with yourself,” Alex finishes.</p><p> </p><p>“Wow,” Maggie teases, “you gettin’ soft on me?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Alex scoffs, but her eyes are smiling.</p><p> </p><p>“But seriously, Alex, thank you. Today was...it was just what I needed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, of course. I told you, I’m here for you.” Maggie nods gratefully, and then Alex is murmuring, “Come here,” and pulling her in for a hug.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a little awkward with both of them leaning across the center console, but Maggie never wants to let go. Alex is so soft and warm, her arms strong and steady around her, and Maggie’s head is swimming with emotions she doesn’t know how to name.</p><p> </p><p>She loosens her hold and starts to move back but stops abruptly, her breath catching in her throat at the look in Alex’s eyes. This moment feels suspended in time, the world slowing to a halt around them. Maggie’s eyes flick down to Alex’s lips and she leans forward, drawn by some invisible force, the magnetic energy she’s felt since the moment they first locked eyes. She can feel the warmth of Alex’s breath as the tip her nose brushes ever-so-slightly against her own.</p><p> </p><p>And then Alex is pulling back, pulling away. Her eyes are wide and her brows are drawn together in an expression Maggie can only read as pity, and her heart sinks.</p><p> </p><p>“Maggie…” Alex’s voice is rough, like the words are being squeezed out of her throat.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so sorry,” Maggie says, the words tumbling out on top of each other as she scoots as far back in her seat as she can. “I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry.” She bends down, quickly gathering up her things. “I should go,” she forces out, willing herself not to cry as humiliation rises inside her.</p><p> </p><p>She opens the door and scrambles out of the car, ignoring Alex’s pleas for her to wait. She doesn’t want to sit here and listen to Alex try to explain as delicately as she can why she doesn’t want anything more than friendship from her. She can’t take it, not right now.</p><p> </p><p>So for the second time, Maggie finds herself running away from Alex Danvers. This time hurts so much more than the last.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>She can’t believe she’d been so stupid. She’d thought she’d seen a flicker of <em> something </em> in Alex’s eyes, thought she had wanted to kiss her too, but clearly she’d been wrong. She groans into her pillow. <em> Stupid. </em></p><p> </p><p>She’s probably ruined any chance of a friendship between them now. She thought she had before, after the party, but this is so much worse.</p><p> </p><p>She takes a few days to think, to process her hurt, lick her wounds. She skips Gibson’s class on Monday—the first class she’s ever skipped in her life—and tries to ignore the thought that Alex would be proud of her for doing something so rebellious.</p><p> </p><p>She breaks down to Lucy one night after practice, tears threatening to fall as she explains what happened. “Being gay is so <em> hard</em>,” she whines at one point, and Lucy snorts before Maggie fixes her with a teary-eyed glare.</p><p> </p><p>“What did she say?” Lucy asks gently, a little while later. “After you…”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie sighs. “Nothing, really. I don’t know, I, um, I left pretty quickly after...after. But when she pulled away from me she had this <em> look </em> on her face and I just...I couldn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, you just...ran away without giving her a chance to say anything?”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie shrugs her shoulders, embarrassed. “I guess, yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think you’re ready now? To hear what she has to say?”</p><p> </p><p>No, she’s not ready, but she knows they need to talk, and sooner rather than later. (She doesn’t think Alex will respond very well to being ignored for weeks again.) Maggie wants more than anything to keep Alex in her life, even if it’s as a friend, and she knows she needs to tell her that before it’s too late.</p><p> </p><p>So she nods, before reaching into her bag and pulling out her phone. She might as well do this now, before she loses her nerve.</p><p> </p><p>She pulls up her text thread with Alex, her heart aching a little at the last message—a simple <em> I’m here</em>, sent while she was parked in front of Maggie’s building, waiting to drive her to the mall. They’d had such a good day together, and Maggie had ruined it. She sighs heavily as she starts to type.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hey Alex. Can we talk? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The three little dots pop up at the bottom of the screen mere moments later, and Maggie holds her breath as she watches Alex type. It seems to go on forever, but when the message finally comes through, there’s only one word:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Tomorrow? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s breath rushes out all at once and her fingers tremble as she hurries to respond. They exchange a few more brief messages, agreeing on a place and a time to meet, before Alex signs off with a <em> See you tomorrow, Sawyer</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but she can’t help but feel a little relieved that Alex doesn’t completely hate her.</p><p> </p><p><em> See you tomorrow, Danvers</em>.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>Maggie rubs her hands over the sides of her jeans as she paces back and forth in her room, mumbling to herself under her breath. Alex will be here soon, and she’s been practicing what she wants to say to her all afternoon. This feels like her final chance to salvage their friendship, and Maggie needs to make sure she tells Alex everything she wants to tell her.</p><p> </p><p>She pauses in front of the mirror, taking a slow, steadying breath and combing her fingers through her hair. She’s wearing a sweater that Alex helped her pick out, a soothing navy blue color that Alex had said complimented her skin tone. (Maggie had raised an eyebrow at that, and Alex had shrugged and said, “I don’t know, it sounds like something my sister would say.”) Her lips twitch upwards with a ghost of a smile at the fond memory, but her heart feels leaden and her stomach still twists with nerves.</p><p> </p><p>A soft knock startles her, and she rushes to the door, pausing with her hand on the handle to take in one last deep breath, a futile attempt at calming her racing heart. As she exhales, she twists the handle, slowly pulling the door open. As soon as she meets Alex’s eyes, she forgets everything she’d planned to say. It’s only been a few days, but Maggie’s heart aches at the sight of her.</p><p> </p><p>“Um, come in,” she says finally, stepping out of the way.</p><p> </p><p>Alex moves inside, and Maggie pushes the door closed, and then it’s just the two of them, alone. Maggie keeps her back turned for a moment longer, gathering her thoughts, hyper aware of Alex’s presence behind her. When she turns, Alex is looking right at her, and she swallows. This is it.</p><p> </p><p>“So, um…” Maggie begins quietly, fidgeting with her hands. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I thought—and obviously I was wrong—I thought that maybe you…” She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have done it, it was stupid, and I am <em> so </em>sorry. I just...I really hope I haven’t completely ruined our friendship.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex reacts instantly. “No,” she tells her, “no, you haven’t. Of course not.”</p><p> </p><p>Relief flows through Maggie’s entire body, a smile stretching wide across her face. “Really?”</p><p> </p><p>“Really. You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Alex teases, and Maggie laughs, breathless.</p><p> </p><p>“I just...you’ve become...really important to me, Danvers. I don’t want to imagine my life without you in it.” It’s the one thing she remembers from the speech she’d planned, the one thing she wanted to make sure Alex knew. </p><p> </p><p>Alex smiles fondly, affectionately, and Maggie’s heart feels like it’s going to burst. “Me neither,” she promises. Then something in her expression changes and she says, “Hey, I know what it’s like when you’re first coming out. Everything is all...bright and shiny and there’s all these new experiences to look forward to, but...you should experience those things for yourself, you know? At your own pace. With the right, um, circumstances.”</p><p> </p><p><em> With the right person</em>, she means. <em> With someone else. Someone who wants you back. </em></p><p> </p><p>Maggie puts on her best smile, trying as hard as she can not to look like her heart’s been ripped out of her chest. Alex might not want her back, but she does still want to be her friend, and Maggie has to focus on that. She gets to keep Alex in her life, even if it’s not quite in the way she wants.</p><p> </p><p>“Friends?” Alex asks with a grin.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s forced smile softens into something more genuine and she nods. “Friends.”</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>It’s hard, being Alex’s friend. She’d thought it would start to hurt less as time passes, but it doesn’t. Weeks go by, and they spend more and more time together, and it chips away at her, little by little. When they’re together, studying or grabbing lunch between classes or watching shitty procedural dramas in Maggie’s room, the pain is dulled a little by the sheer light of Alex’s presence. But in the quiet moments, when Alex rests her head on Maggie’s shoulder during movie night or when their fingers brush as she hands her a pen from across their study table, the ache returns.</p><p> </p><p>The longing, deep in her chest, gnawing away at her with every furtive glance across the basketball court, every private smile meant just for her. Maggie wonders how long it will be before it consumes her entirely.</p><p> </p><p>As it turns out, she doesn’t have to wait very long to find out. It’s a Thursday night, a couple weeks after midterms, and she’s completely wiped after a long practice. She leans against the closed bleachers to catch her breath, waving weakly at her teammates as they file out the door.</p><p> </p><p>“You ready for tomorrow?” Lucy asks, pausing in front of Maggie on her way out.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a women’s game tomorrow night, and they’re playing against their rivals, the California State Tigers, which means the student section is going to be full for once. It’s going to be a huge crowd, and an excitable one at that, so there’s extra pressure to deliver a good performance. They’ve been drilling their latest routine like crazy to prepare for it; Maggie had nearly dislocated her own elbow last week.</p><p> </p><p>“As ready as I’m gonna be, I guess,” Maggie says wryly.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, me too,” Lucy agrees. “I’m gonna head out, I’ll see you tomorrow. Remember, we’re meeting in the locker room at 5:00 instead of 5:30!” she calls as she makes her way to the exit.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, see you then,” Maggie calls back. </p><p> </p><p>With a sigh, she hefts her duffel bag over her shoulder and starts moving toward the door. She’s the last one in the gym, and the sound of her shoes squeaking against the floor seems to echo in the quiet. Finally, she makes it outside, and for a moment she thinks the post-practice exhaustion is causing her to hallucinate because she sees Alex standing there, illuminated in the glow of the overhead lights.</p><p> </p><p>But then Alex is moving toward her, a smile on her face and a paper bag in her hand, and Maggie realizes she’s not a mirage brought on by a combination of not enough sleep and too many pirouettes. She’s real.</p><p> </p><p>“Danvers, what are you doing here?” </p><p> </p><p>Alex comes to a stop in front of her and holds out the paper bag with a paper bag with a playful grin. “Just making a delivery.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie tilts her head to one side, eyeing her quizzically as she accepts the bag. She peers inside, her eyes lighting up when she realizes what Alex has brought her. “Is this—”</p><p> </p><p>“Your favorite veggie sandwich, no onion, extra tomato? Yes.” Alex looks incredibly pleased with herself, and under normal circumstances Maggie would tell her to wipe that smug look off her face. But she’s exhausted and she’s starving and Alex had anticipated her needs without her even asking and she’s about to absolutely <em> destroy </em> this sandwich.</p><p> </p><p>“Alex, thank you so much. Why did you…?”</p><p> </p><p>Alex shrugs, hands wedged in her front pockets. “I know you’ve been working really hard this week, and you always get hungry after practice but you’re too tired to cook anything and the cafeteria’s closed, so.” She gestures toward the bag. “Plus, I need you at the top of your game tomorrow so you can pump up the crowd, so then the crowd can pump up my team and we can beat the Tigers. So it’s just for selfish reasons, really.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex is making that face she always makes right after she tells a particularly stupid joke, like she’s waiting for Maggie to either roll her eyes or laugh, and Maggie obliges by doing both. “Well, whatever the reason, I appreciate it.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex gestures toward a bench a few feet down the sidewalk. “Do you want to sit and eat?”</p><p> </p><p>“God, yeah,” Maggie says before Alex is even finished asking. She turns and strides purposefully toward the bench, hearing Alex’s amused chuckle as she follows behind her. </p><p> </p><p>They settle next to each other, and Maggie unwraps the sandwich as quickly as she can before sinking her teeth in. She hums low in her throat, eyes closed in pure satisfaction. “This is so good,” she says through a mouthful of bread, and Alex laughs again.</p><p> </p><p>They talk while Maggie eats—or rather, Alex talks and Maggie listens, making occasional “mm-hmm” sounds while she chews. When she finishes her sandwich, she leans back against the bench, smiling blissfully. She hears Alex snort and she turns her head to look at her.</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing.” Then her eyes drop from Maggie’s eyes to her lips, and Maggie’s heart kicks into overdrive. But then she’s saying, “Oh, you’ve got something,” and leaning forward and brushing a stray crumb from the corner of Maggie’s mouth with her thumb, and Maggie feels that familiar ache, stronger than she ever has before.</p><p> </p><p>Something inside of her breaks. She can’t do this anymore.</p><p> </p><p>She pushes herself backwards on the bench, putting as much space between them as she can. “Alex, I…” She takes a breath. “I have to tell you something.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex’s eyes are wide. “Is everything okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. I mean, no. I mean…” Maggie sighs in frustration and pushes off the bench, standing on the concrete. “It’s just...I know we said we would be friends, and I <em> love </em> being your friend, more than anything, but it’s just...it’s hard for me sometimes,” she admits, her voice small. “I just have all these...these <em> feelings</em>...feelings for you, and I <em> know </em> you don’t feel the same and I’ve totally accepted that, but I just...when you do things like, like bringing me a sandwich because you know I’ll be hungry after practice, or remembering my coffee order, or that time when you gave me your hoodie because I was too cold, I just…” She shrugs helplessly. “It hurts.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex is silent as she looks up at her, her expression warring between shock and confusion and something like sadness. Maggie looks away, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>The silence weighs on her with every passing millisecond, and she’s not ready to hear what Alex has to say, so she keeps talking. “I know you’re not doing it on purpose, but it just feels like, I don’t know, you’re leading me on sometimes. Unintentionally,” she adds quickly. “And it’s like…” Her voice breaks, and she silently wills the tears welling in her eyes not to fall. “Every time, I just get reminded that...that you’ve kissed, like, every girl at this school, but you didn’t want to kiss me. That I’m not...enough.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex springs off the bench at that. “Maggie, you’re not <em> like </em> every other girl at this school. Not to me.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie sniffles, nodding. “I know, you didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize our friendship, and I really appreciate that, I do, but…”</p><p> </p><p>“No, Maggie, I…” Alex sighs, running a hand through her hair. “That day, when you tried to kiss me…” Maggie’s cheeks burn when she says it. Neither of them has ever mentioned it out loud before. “That day, I pulled away because I...I was scared. I thought you were only doing it because you felt like you should, or because of my reputation, or because I was the only other lesbian you knew. And I knew that…” Alex takes a breath. Maggie holds hers. “I knew that if I kissed you, I wanted it to mean something. For both of us.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s head is spinning, a tangled mess of thoughts and emotions whirling around too fast for her to make sense of any of it. </p><p> </p><p>“So I guess what I’m asking is…” Alex takes a step toward, and then another, and another, until she’s standing right in front of her. “Would it mean something to you, now? Because I really just...I want to kiss you.”</p><p> </p><p>And Maggie’s brain is still on fire, but she’s known the answer to this question since she’d realized she was allowed to want to kiss girls. Maybe even before. Maybe she’s always known it, somewhere deep in her soul, that she wants absolutely nothing more than to kiss Alex Danvers.</p><p> </p><p>So she nods desperately, and then Alex’s hands are cupping her face, and Alex’s fingertips are grazing the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck, and then finally, finally, Alex’s lips are meeting her own.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie had always thought it was fake, all that stuff about seeing fireworks. About feeling sparks like electricity. But here, now, kissing Alex Danvers under the awning of the empty rec center, Maggie finally understands it all. Every touch of their lips, every slide of Alex’s hand up her arm or down her back sends shockwaves through Maggie’s entire body. She’s never felt anything like this in her life.</p><p> </p><p>She never wants it to end.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie grips at Alex’s arms, feeling the lean muscle flexing beneath the soft material of her sweatshirt. She slides her hands up, delighting in the way Alex shivers when she skims her fingers along her neck and up into her short hair. She wants to keep doing this forever, to keep exploring and finding out what makes Alex gasp against her lips and tighten her grip on her waist.</p><p> </p><p>When they finally part, Alex is just as reluctant to move away as Maggie is, leaning down and pressing their foreheads together. Maggie closes her eyes as she tries to catch her breath, feeling her heart pounding against her ribcage and reverberating through her entire body. She can feel Alex’s ragged breaths against her skin, and she pulls back just enough to look at her.</p><p> </p><p>Alex is always beautiful, but right now she’s absolutely breathtaking. Her cheeks are flushed a soft, rosy pink, and her smile is positively radiant, and she’s looking at Maggie like she’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. Which is impossible, obviously, because surely Alex sees herself in the mirror every day. But what steals the breath right out of Maggie’s lungs is how <em> happy </em> Alex looks. It’s beaming out of her, radiating off of her skin, and Maggie can’t believe that Alex is so completely, brilliantly happy because of <em> her</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Wow,” is all she can say, her breathless voice breaking the silence.</p><p> </p><p>Alex smiles even wider. “Yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie’s own smile widens as she gazes up at her. “Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie is just starting to wonder when either of them will venture beyond monosyllables when Alex leans forward and murmurs, “I have been wanting to do that for a while.” The fingers of one hand are playing with the ends of Maggie’s ponytail, her other hand cradled gently at the base of her skull. No one’s ever touched her like this before, like she’s something to be cherished.</p><p> </p><p>“Me too,” Maggie whispers. “But you probably knew that before, considering I tried to jump you in your car,” she adds, huffing out a self-conscious laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“I really didn’t know,” Alex tells her. “I didn’t know it was...real for you. I mean, I hoped, sometimes, but I thought it was just me projecting. I didn’t think you’d really…” She trails off, looking bashful.</p><p> </p><p>Maggie tilts her head, looking up at her. “Didn’t think I’d what? Like you? Are you kidding? Alex, how could I <em> not </em> like you?”</p><p> </p><p>Alex makes a little <em> pfft </em> sound, brushing off the praise like she always does. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m serious.” Maggie takes Alex’s chin in her hand gently, looking right into her eyes. “I know you’re a little scared, and I know you don’t let people in very easily, and believe me, I get it. But I’m serious about this, about...about us. It means something to me. You mean something to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve never really done serious before,” Alex admits, “but I’m serious about you.” </p><p> </p><p>Maggie smiles and leans up for another kiss. This one is slower, more tender, and there are so many butterflies fluttering around in her stomach that she thinks she might float away. “What’s that quote about missing a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take?” she murmurs against Alex’s lips, feeling her grin before she pulls back to look at her. “It’s like basketball, right? We both have to take the shot, even if we’re scared we won’t end up, uh, making a basket.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex chuckles, shaking her head. “You know that quote is about hockey, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m trying so hard with the sports metaphor, let me have this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine, Sawyer. But only because you’re cute.”</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>The following night, the NCU Sharks face off against the Cal State Tigers in the closest, most intense game of the season. Maggie can feel the tension of the crowd swelling with every second, and her eyes dart nervously to Alex between sideline routines. She can see the sweat glistening on her skin, her brow furrowed in concentration as she moves across the court, calling out to her teammates.</p><p> </p><p>“Quit staring at your girlfriend,” Lucy whispers to her left, and Maggie’s entire body hums at the word.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s not my girlfriend yet,” she whispers back through a smile, waving her pom-poms in the air as the crowd cheers.</p><p> </p><p>“Were you not just gushing to me in the locker room about how she professed her undying love for you and then made out with you in front of the gym last night?”</p><p> </p><p>Maggie blushes, still shaking her pom-poms. “That is <em> not </em> what I said.”</p><p> </p><p>“Close enough.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p> </p><p>They redirect their attention to the game just in time to see the Sharks score another point. Maggie cheers heartily, bouncing on her toes with excitement. The game is down to the wire, and the Sharks have just managed to pull ahead. She watches with rapt attention as Alex and her teammates move across the floor, a choreographed dance in its own right.</p><p> </p><p>The Tigers score another point, and the crowd groans.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, come on,” Maggie whispers under her breath. She’s been performing at sporting events for years, but she’s never been so invested in a game before.</p><p> </p><p>There’s only a few seconds left on the clock, ticking down faster than Maggie can count them, and the entire gymnasium is holding its breath. And then, at the last second: the ball swishing through the net, followed by the drone of the final buzzer. The crowd erupts, an undulating sea of blue and white as spectators jump to their feet, pumping their fists triumphantly in the air.</p><p> </p><p>Alex’s teammates are ecstatic, jumping up and down with their arms around each other’s shoulders. Maggie cheers as loud as she can, pom-poms rustling as she shakes them together. She hears Lucy yell, “We fucking did it!” over all the noise and she busts into giddy laughter.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah we did!” she screams, prompting another chorus of cheers and shouts from her teammates. </p><p> </p><p>The celebrations continue, the joyous atmosphere permeating throughout the gym. After several minutes, Maggie looks up to see Alex’s teammates starting to disperse. She spots Alex in the scattering crowd and waves, and Alex’s entire face lights up when she sees her. She starts moving toward her, and Maggie decides the time it will take her to cross the gym is too long to wait. She drops her pom-poms and breaks into a jog, picking up speed as she runs across the floor.</p><p> </p><p>When she reaches Alex, she throws her arms around her neck, giggling as Alex hoists her up in the air and spins her around. Maggie’s legs wrap instinctively around Alex’s waist, and Alex’s hands come up to support her with ease, like she’s been holding her like this for years. And there, in the middle of the gym, in the only place she’s ever felt completely at ease with herself, even for just a few minutes a week when she’s dancing—there, in front of everyone, she fists one hand in Alex’s jersey and pulls her in for a kiss.</p><p> </p><p>In that moment, she feels more like herself than she ever has before.</p><p> </p><p>She feels free.</p>
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